THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


As  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 


A  STORY  OF 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER 


BY  TREBOR. 


"Every  man  is  odd." — SHAKESPEARE. 


PORTER    &    COATES, 
PHILADELPHIA. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1879,  by 

PORTER  &  COAXES, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


ALL   DRAMATIC  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  STRANGE  COUPLE. 

THE  village  of  Slowville  had  within  its  boundary-line 
two  strange  characters,  who,  for  a  long  time,  had  suc 
cessfully  resisted  all  attempts  to  discover  their  history,  or 
explore  the  mystery  of  their  daily  lives.  Yet  every  man 
and  woman,  and  almost  every  child  in  the  village,  had 
either  seen  or  knew  something  about  Nicholas  Grundle 
and  his  companion,  Emily — a  girl  whose  great  beauty  was 
the  engrossing  topic  among  the  young  and  old  men  of 
that  region.  Of  this  mysterious  couple  the  people  of 
Slowville  really  knew  but  little,  and  that  little  this :  Nich 
olas  Grundle  was  old,  ugly,  and,  so  far  as  his  character 
could  be  judged  by  limited  means  of  observation,  a  miser. 
He  lived  in  a  small  house,  already  tottering  to  its  ruin, 
some  two  miles  from  the  village,  with  no  companions  in 
this  lonely  home  except  a  beautiful  girl,  verging  on 
womanhood,  a  sharp-fanged  mastiff,  and  a  double-bar 
reled  gun. 

Beyond  these  facts,  gained  by  several  years  of  persistent 
and  anxious  observation,  the  public  of  Slowville  had  been 
unable,  in  their  eager  desire  and  search  for  information, 
to  find  out  anything  about  the  domestic  life  of  this  man 
and  girl,  between  whom  there  was  such  a  great  contrast 
of  age  and  appearance.  Six  years  ago,  Nicholas  Grundle 
had  come  to  the  village,  in  company  with  the  child  and 
an  old  woman,  and  bought  the  home  where  he  now  was. 
From  the  first  he  had  been  an  intensely  secretive  man, 
neither  asking  nor  answering  questions,  nor  allowing  any 
intercourse,  the  most  trivial,  between  his  companions  and 
the  villagers.  Since  the  death  of  this  old  woman,  some 
i  *  5 


6  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

four  years  after  he  bad  entered  this  abode,  Nicholas  Grun- 
dle  had  grown  even  more  secretive,  if  that  were  possible 
to  one  who  had  already  made  the  world  a  blank  to  him 
self  and  his  remaining  companion.  During  these  past 
two  years,  no  one,  on  any  pretense — and  repeated  were 
the  attempts  by  those  who  pitied  the  girl,  or  longed  for  a 
sight  of  her  beauty — had  been  allowed  to  enter  his  home. 
AVhether  with  stranger  or  acquaintance — friends  he  had 
none — he  always  transacted  his  business  either  in  the  front 
yard,  or,  if  writing  were  necessary,  at  a  little  rickety  sec 
retary  in  his  barn,  where  an  old  cow,  with  one  stumpy 
horn,  was  the  sole  witness  of  the  business  in  hand.  In 
this  dusty  receptacle,  covered  with  hay  seed  or  stray 
wisps  of  straw,  were  scraps  of  writing  paper,  evidently 
torn  from  some  old  ledger.  A  small  bottle  of  ink,  with 
out  a  label,  stood  in  the  corner,  the  fluid  in  which  had 
been  so  many  times  diluted  with  vinegar  that  it  looked 
paler  in  its  tracery  than  even  the  blood  that  flowed  slug 
gishly  in  the  veins  of  the  old  miser's  hand.  In  another 
corner  lay  a  pen,  made  of  an  old  goose-quill,  that  sput 
tered  continually  when  he  made  his  signature,  as  if  it 
were  protesting  against  giving  so  mean  a  name  a  visible 
form. 

Not  only  did  Nicholas  Grundle  so  jealously  guard  the 
privacy  of  his  house,  but  it  was  also  impossible  for  any 
body,  not  even  the  mild  and  wary  parson,  to  draw  him 
into  a  conversation  that  touched  in  the  slightest  particular 
upon  matters  pertaining  to  himself  personally,  or  his  beau 
tiful  companion,  or  their  mode  of  living.  To  such  a  ques 
tioner — and  one  now  seldom  presented  himself,  unless  he 
were  a  stranger  by  the  wayside — the  old  man,  whistling 
for  his  dog,  would  make  such  an  angry  reply  that  the  in 
terrogator  instantly  bethought  himself  how  soonest  to  get 
out  of  the  man's  reach,  without  further  exciting  his  ire, 
or  arousing  that  of  the  grim,  growling  beast  beside  him. 
Nor  were  people,  even  those  of  her  own  sex,  any  more 
success t'ul  in  endeavoring,  through  the  girl,  to  gratify  their 
curiosity,  or  relieve  their  anxiety,  concerning  the  relations 
between  the  old  man  and  herself.  She  treated  all  such  in 
quiries  as  he  did,  and,  turning  away  her  drooping  blue  eyes, 
would  answer  no  questions,  no  matter  how  kindly  or  gently 


A   STRANGE  COUPLE.  1 

put,  that  bore  upon  the  mystery  of  their  intercourse.  As 
if  to  be  safer  from  all  such  questionings,  she  always  kept 
within  sight  or  hearing  of  her  strange  associate  when  any 
one  came  to  the  house.  And  to  further  guard  her  secret, 
she  never  ventured  outside  of  the  garden-gate  unless  she 
were  in  the  company  of  the  old  man  or  the  dog,  who,  in  like 
manner  as  his  master,  warned  away,  with  a  dangerous 
gleam  in  his  eyes,  any  one  who  dared  approach  his  charge. 

This,  then,  was  all  the  villagers  knew  of  the  life  of 
Nicholas  Grundle  and  the  fair  maiden  Vho  was  his  coun 
terpart  in  all  that  was  secretive  and  reserved.  Beyond 
these  apparent  facts,  all  that  rumor  incessantly  repeated 
about  the  strange  pair  was  mere  inference  and  specula 
tion.  Nor  could  the  tales  that  were  told  every  night  at 
tilt  Green  Tree  Inn,  of  the  questionable  and  suspicious 
proceedings  in  "  old  Grundle's  hut,"  ever  be  traced  to  one 
who  could  say  he  had  himself  seen  thein,  or  who  was  able, 
when  closely  pressed,  to  give  the  source  of  his  informa 
tion  ;  for,  during  the  night  as  well  as  the  day,  the  interior 
of  this  secret  dwelling,  its  thick  board  shutters  tightly 
closed,  was  shrouded  in  a  mystery  that  the  skillful  eye  of 
the  shrewdest  explorer  of  dark  retreats  could  not  pierce. 
If  one  should  come  that  way  at  night — and  sometimes  a 
curious  and  daring  villager,  not  afraid  of  the  old  woman's 
unmarked  grave  in  the  corner  of  the  yard,  would  recon 
noitre  the  silent  premises — he  could  see  there  no  signs  of 
life  except  a  faint  wreath  of  smoke,  that  floated  away  in 
some  weird  shape  from  the  ragged,  toppling  chimney. 
And  if,  perchance,  growing  more  bold  in  spite  of  the  un 
defined  fear  that  crept  over  him,  he  should  venture  as  far 
as  the  garden-gate,  he  would  not  stay  long  to  listen  to  the 
low  growl  of  the  mastiff  within,  which  sound  alone  broke 
the  tomb-like  silence  of  the  place  ;  for  no  one  ever  heard 
the  soft,  quick  steps  of  the  miser,  when,  thus  alarmed,  he 
caught  up  his  gun,  and  hastened  to  his  outlook,  a  half- 
concealed  window  in  the  second  story.  Here,  placing  his 
threatening  eye  against  a  large  hole  cut  in  the  bottom  of 
the  shutter,  he  had  ample  field  for  the  range  of  his  vision, 
or  the  deadly  weapon  that  trembled  in  his  hand. 

Such  was  the  mystery  that  surrounded  the  life  in  old 
Grundle's  hut.  Although  the  grievously  disappointed 


8  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

and  exasperated  villagers  had  used  every  means  but  force 
to  solve  it,  they  were,  at  the  end  of  their  six  years'  effort 
in  this  direction,  no  wiser  than  when  they  began  ;  for  all 
they  knew  of  what  took  place  within  its  walls,  Nicholas 
Grundle's  house  might  as  well  have  been  a  pyramid  in 
the  desert. 

By  one  who  was  coming  down  the  road,  straight  to 
this  dwelling,  a  few  of  its  secrets  had  been  fathomed, 
and  by  him  enough  of  its  inner  life  was  known  to  make 
him  more  than  ever  resolved  that  this  night  he  would 
talk  face  to  face  with  Nicholas  Grundle,  and  if  pos 
sible  force  him  to  a  satisfactory  answer  in  the  matter  so 
soon  to  be  at  issue  between  them.  He  was  a  young  man 
of  about  twenty  years,  though  his  intellectual  face  and 
prominent  forehead  gave  him  a  far  older  appearance,  and 
seldom  was  his  countenance  without  that  grave  expression 
which  betokens  the  busy  and  thoughtful  mind.  His  sen 
sitive  chin  and  lips  were  slightly  bearded,  while  his  thick 
brows  half  concealed  eyes  as  black  as  the  night  in  which 
he  walked.  He  carried  in  his  hand,  soft  and  fair  as  a 
woman's,  a  hickory  stick,  which  he  swung  with  nervous  en 
ergy,  now  gripping  it  more  firmly,  as  his  brows  knitted  in 
doubt  or  half-suppressed  anger,  or  twirling  it  as  lightly  as  if 
it  were  a  twig,  when  his  eyes  flashed  with  a  brighter  light, 
and  a  ray  of  kindling  hope  played  for  an  instant  across 
his  features.  Dark  and  silent  as  the  night  was — for 
neither  moon  nor  stars  were  visible,  and  dense  clouds  en 
veloped  the  heavens — he  seemed  at  no  loss  to  find  his  way, 
but  walked  on  as  surely  and  steadily  as  if  the  noonday 
sun  were  shining  upon  him.  He  now  turned  from  the 
road  and  went  straight  as  an  arrow  to  Nicholas  Grundle's 
garden-gate.  Unfastening  this,  and  shutting  it  with  a 
loud  noise  to  announce  his  coming,  he  strode  up  the 
path.  A  moment  later  he  leaped  upon  the  step,  and 
rapped  firmly  yet  gently  upon  the  weather-beaten  door. 


WHO   WAS  THE  STRANGER? 

CHAPTER  II. 

WHO  WAS  THE  STRANGER  ? 

FROM  the  last  passenger  train  that  passed  through  the 
outskirts  of  Slowville  this  clay,  there  alighted  a  single 
passenger,  a  tall,  black-bearded  man,  who,  leaping  from  the 
car  before  it  had  stopped,  disappeared  in  the  dark  shadow 
of  the  Station.  There  for  an  instant  he  stood,  taking  his 
bearings  with  a  quickness  and  keenness  of  vision  that  in 
one  sweep,  despite  the  gathering  night,  comprehended  all 
the  surroundings  of  the  place,  and  assured  him  of  the  di 
rection  of  the  village,  as  well  as  of  its  general  conforma 
tion.  Across  the  railroad  track,  and  beyond  him  about 
half  a  mile,  were  the  houses  of  Slowville,  nestling  on  the 
top  and  slope  of  a  steep  hill,  and  from  the  rows  of  light 
that  twinkled  from  the  dwellings  on  either  side  of  a  broad, 
dark  space,  he  saw  there  was  but  one  street,  and  that  a 
straight  one,  up  the  hill,  and  through  the  middle  of  the 
town.  Looking  more  intently,  as  if  in  search  of  it,  he 
detected,  with  the  trifle  of  a  smile,  a  dull,  red  light,  which 
some  intervening  object  had  hitherto  obscured.  This  light 
he  knew,  from  long  familiarity  with  those  of  its  kind,  to  be 
the  tavern-lamp.  Taking  this  as  his  guide,  he  cautiously 
emerged  from  his  concealment,  and,  satisfied  that  his  ar 
rival  had  been  unobserved  by  the  station-master,  made  his 
way  into  the  main  road,  and  hurried  on  to  the  village. 

Here,  to  his  evident  satisfaction — for  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  with  a  complacent  air — he  found  the  street  en 
tirely  deserted.  The  people  had  long  since  congregated, 
for  some  public  meeting,  in  the  Town  Hall,  at  the  far 
ther  end  of  the  village.  Approaching  the  tavern  with  a 
stealthy  step,  he  crept  to  one  of  the  front  windows,  from 
which  streamed  a  bright  light,  and  looked  in  beneath  the 
half-drawn  curtain.  A  single  glance  was  enough.  He 
opened  the  door  and  entered. 

It  was  the  usual  bar-room  of  a  country  tavern.  A  large 
stove,  glowing  with  an  unattended  fire,  stood  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  apartment,  and  around  it  were  grouped,  in  the 
disorder  left  by  recent  guests,  chairs,  old,  whittled  and 


10  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

battered,  and  large,  square  boxes,  spittoons  evidently  none 
too  capacious  for  their  use.  Under  one  of  the  windows 
Avas  a  wide  bench,  with  a  buffalo  robe  stretched  upon  it, 
and  a  couple  of  horse-blankets  rolled  up  at  one  of  its 
ends,  as  if  this  arrangement  served  as  a  bed  for  some  one 
about  the  premises.  On  the  Avails  were  the  usual  decora 
tions  of  prints,  in  many  colors,  of  noted  prize-fighters, 
their  brawny  forms  stripped  to  the  Avaist ;  celebrated 
horses,  in  all  the  various  positions  of  the  race-course — 
winners,  all  of  them  ;  and  here  and  there,  as  if  to  cater 
solely  for  amateurs  in  female  beauty,  were  the  graceful 
forms  and  fairer  faces  of  notorious  women  of  ancient  and 
modern  times.  Nor  Avere  there  wanting  pictures  of 
famous  dogs,  ready  poised  for  the  fight  in  which  they 
had  earned  their  celebrity;  or  of  bulls  and  COAVS,  rams 
and  ewes,  cocks  and  hens,  which  had  all  Avon  prizes  in 
the  different  agricultural  fairs.  Indeed,  in  the  lowest 
order  of  aesthetic  art,  this  picture  gallery  of  the  Green 
Tree  Inn  lacked  nothing  that  its  frequenters  could  de 
sire,  save  the  occasional  notices  of  a  sheriff's  sale  which 
intruded  for  a  Aveek  or  so  upon  its  Avails. 

The  traveler,  tossing  his  valise  upon  a  chair,  rapidly 
glanced  around  the  room,  and  then,  with  a  loud  "Hem  !" 
advanced  to  the  bar,  behind  the  counter  of  Avhich  Avas  just 
visible  a  head,  covered  with  a  shock  of  sandy  hair,  which 
belonged  to  a  young  man,  fast  asleep. 

"  Hello !  business  must  be  dull,  if  you  can  aiford  to 
sleep  so  early  in  the  evening,"  said  the  newcomer,  as  the 
youth  opened  his  eyes  with  a  listless  yawn,  and,  like  an 
old  man,  rose  sloAvly  to  his  feet,  letting  his  chair  fall  back 
upon  the  floor. 

"Yes,"  with  another  and  a  longer  yawn,  as  he  stretched 
his  arms  over  his  head;  "biz  is  off  just  now.  All  the 
fellows  are  over  at  the  Lyceum  to-night.  They  won't  be 
back"  under  a  couple  of  hours ;  so  1  thought  I'd  take  a 
quiet  snooze,  by  way  of  a  change.  This  tending  bar  all 
day  and  up  to  midnight  makes  a  fellow  snatch  at  a  chance 
to  sleep,  like  a  hungry  dog  at  a  stray  bone.  But  I  say, 
stranger,  excuse  me,"  placing  a  tumbler  on  the  bar,  and 
turning  toward  the  array  of  bottles  on  the  shelf  in  his 
rear;  "what  Avill  you  have?  We've  got  good  liquors, 


WHO    WAS  THE  STRANGER?  H 

and  I  can  mix  you  anything  you  want,  from  the  best 
punch  down  to  a  simple  gin  and  sugar.  Nothing  like  a 
man  knowing  his  business ;  and,  thanks  to  rny  experience 
and  observation,  and  '  The  Barkeeper's  Guide  and  Univer 
sal  Mixer,'  you  will  find  me  up  in  mine.  But  hold  up  ; 
my  tongue  is  running  away  with  me.  They  all  say  I've 
got  a  forty-horse  power  tongue.  What  was  it  you  said 
you  would  take?" 

"I  didn't  intend  to  take  anything  just  now;  but  as  you 
are  such  a  clever,  sociable  fellow,  I  can't  refuse.  Suppose 
you  make  me  a  Scotch  whiskey  punch,  in  your  best  style, 
and  mix  one  for  yourself  at  the  same  time.  Clinked 
glasses,  you  know,  make  a  merry  drink." 

"Now  you  do  talk!  You're  a  city  chap,  I  can  see. 
Not  that  I  always  drink  with  a  customer,  but  I  like-  to  be 
asked  by  a  gentleman  such  as  you  are,  and  there's  mighty 
few  of  your  kind  that  comes  to  the  Green  Tree,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"Have  a  cigar?"  asked  the  stranger,  unbuttoning  his 
coat,  which  displayed  the  plain  and  neat  attire  of  a  gen 
tleman,  and  taking  from  his  pocket  a  cigar  case,  which  he 
opened  and  extended  to  the  young  man,  who  was  already 
vigorously  at  work  with  his  concoctions. 

"  Thank  you  !  Don't  care  if  I  do !"  taking  one,  and 
snuffing  up  its  odor  with  an  appreciative  nod,  as  he  lighted 
a  naatch.  "That  is  a  cigar — a  regular  Havana.  Smells 
like  a  June  rose.  Whew !" — blowing  out  a  puff  of  its 
blue,  fragrant  smoke — "it's  fit  for  a  duke,  it  is !  But," 
suddenly  resuming  his  labors,  "here  I  am  again,  talking 
away  like  old  Gagger  at  the  Lyceum.  And  they've  got 
a  question  there  to-night  that  suits  him  to  a  dot,  you  can 
bet — something  about  believing  the  Bible." 

"  W'hat  Gagger  is  that?"  asked  the  man,  with  a  slight 
start  and  a  sudden  increase  of  attention  in  his  face,  which 
the  young  man  did  not  notice;  for  he  was  just  now  giving 
the  finishing  circular  touches  of  two  delicate  pieces  of 
lemon  rind  to  his  productions. 

"  Why,  Silas  Gagger,  who  lives  about  two  miles  out  on 
the  pike.  He's  as  cross  as  he  is  conceited !  Thinks  he 
knows  more  than* all  the  people  in  Slowville  put  together. 
If  the  world  would  only  do  as  he  says,  I  believe  he  thinks 


12  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

it  would  get  along  without  law  or  gospel.  But  I  tell  you 
the  world  could  get  along — leastwise  this  part  of  it  here  in 
Slowville — better  without  than  with  him.  He's  always 
attending  to  everybody's  business  but  his  own.  Between 
you  and  me,  there's  lots  of  folk  here  would  take  a  very 
willing  hand  in  shoveling  dirt  into  his  grave;  and  no  one 
would  make  the  dirt  fly  more  lively" — lowering  his  voice 
into  a  confidential  whisper  as  he  leaned  over  the  bar — 
"  than  his  wife.  Take  me  for  a  noodle,  but  she  is  a  hand 
some  woman!  Eyes  like  stars,  and  lips —  Whew!  talk 
of  strawberries  and  cream !  There,  see  how  you  like  that 
punch  I"  pushing  the  steaming  glass  toward  the  man,  who 
had  been  suddenly  seized  with  a  fit  of  coughing,  and  had 
stepped  bade  a  pace  or  two  with  averted  face,  his  hand, 
with  a  jeweled  finger,  which  instantly  caught  Dibbs'  atten 
tion,  shading  his  eyes.  "  What's  the  matter  ?  I  never  saw 
a  cough  take  a  man  so  on  a  sudden  as  that.  Here,  a  swal 
low  of  this  punch  will  cure  it." 

"Oh,  it's  nothing!  Only  a  frog  in  my  throat,"  rejoin 
ed  the  other,  with  a  light  laugh,  taking  up" the  glass  and 
slowly  sipping  its  contents.  "  That  is  a  good  punch.  You 
are  what  I  should  call  a  whiskeyrial  artist.  It's  a  pity,  my 
young  man,  your  abilities  cannot  display  themselves  in  a 
better  field  than  this.  You  ought  to  have  a  bar  in  some 
big  city.  You  would  make  your  fortune  there." 

"  That's  just  my  lay.  I'm  hiving  money  for  that  very 
same.  If  things  work  all  right,  I'm  going  down  to  Phila 
delphia  next  year  and  try  my  hand  at  a  bar  of  my  own. 
I  am  bound  to  be  rich,  I  am.  Worse  fellows  than  I  have 
made  their  fortunes  in  cities.  Are  you  from  Philadelphia? 
Perhaps  you  know  of  some  good  saloon  there  I  could  buy 
out,  say  a  year  from  now." 

"  No,  I  am  not  from  Philadelphia,  but  my  business  often 
calls  me  there.  I  will  bear  in  mind  what  you  have  said. 
Should  I  see  a  good  opening  for  a  fellow  of  your  genius,  I 
will  drop  you  a  line." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you !  You're  the  first  man  that 
ever  took  an  interest  in  Bill  Dibbs,  and  I  want  to  shake 
hands  with  you,"  stretching  his  broad,  wet  palm  across  the 
counter. 

The  other  gave  it  a  hearty  grasp,  and  reiterated,  in  the 


WHO   WAS  THE  STRANGER  f  13 

strongest  manner,  his  good  opinion  of,  and  still  better  in 
tentions  toward,  the  young  man,  who  was  now  beaming 
upon  him  with  a  look  of  mingled  gratitude  and  admi 
ration. 

"  Would  you  let  me  see  that  ring  ?"  said  Dibbs,  point 
ing  at  the  jewel. 

"  Certainly/'  rejoined  the  other,  extending  his  hand  to 
the  curious  Dibbs,  who  examined  the  ring  with  exclama 
tions  of  pleasure. 

"  That's  a  mighty  odd  ring — a  snake,  with  two  rubies 
for  eyes,"  commented  Dibbs,  as  he  released  the  man's  hand, 
but  still  kept  his  eyes  on  the  jewel.  "I  wouldn't  mind 
owning  one  like  it." 

"  If  you  had  such  a  ring,  you  would  be  in  luck,"  re- 
jomed  the  stranger,  with  a  significant  and  mysterious  look. 
"  Some  day  I  may  tell  you  the  history  of  this  ring.  There 
is  not  another  like  it  in  the  world.  But  come,  friend 
Dibbs,  let  us  sit  down  and  have  a  little  chat.  I  am  a  great 
lover  of  gossip — worse  than  a  woman  in  that  respect — and 
would  like  to  hear  what's  going  on  in  this  town.  I  sup 
pose  you  have  an  odd  character  or  two  here,  like  all  vil 
lages — some  one  that  everybody  talks  about  ?" 

"  Indeed  we  have,"  replied  the  youth,  lying  back  in 
one  chair,  and  cocking  his  feet  high  upon  another,  while 
he  puffed  away  at  his  cigar.  "  There  is  old  Nicholas 
Grand  le,  the  miser,  and  the  sweetest  girl  you  ever  saw, 
Emily,  that  lives  with  him.  Take  me  for  a  noodle,  but 
she  is  a  beauty  !  Just  my  style — hair  like  gold,  and  eyes 
blue  as  the  sky.  But,  pshaw!"  with  something  like  a  sigh 
and  a  hopeless  shake  of  the  head,  "  it's  no  use  of  my  pin 
ing  after  her.  She  is  kept  too  close  for  courting ;  and, 
besides,  Volney  Slade  has  got  the  inside  track  there ;  and 
he  passed  the  three-quarter  pole  long  ago — " 

"  Slade !  What  Slade  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  name  is 
familiar !"  interrupted  the  stranger,  with  a  slight  cough, 
but  not  stirring  from  his  half-concealed  seat  behind  the 
stove,  where  he  sat  in  an  arm-chair,  throwing  out  clouds 
of  cigar  smoke,  that  obscured  his  features  and  completely 
veiled  the  alternating  expression  of  surprise  and  excited 
interest  that  played  rapidly  across  them. 

"Why,  Volney  Slade  is  old  Gagger-'s  stepson.  Before 
2 


14  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

old  Gagger  married  the  Widow  Slade,  five  years  ago,  she 
had  this  son  Volney  by  her  first  husband,  whose  name,  they 
say,  was  Seth  Slade,  and  he  was  lost,  so  I  heard  old  Gag 
ger  tell  my  boss,  in  one  of  the  Pacific  steamers,  seven  years 
aii'o.  She  didn't  wait  for  her  dear  Seth  to  get  very  cold, 
did  she  ?  I  tell  you,  you  can't  depend  on  these  handsome 
widows  to  keep  single  more  than  a  year  or  two — especially 
if  the  first  husband  was  poor  and  the  second  one  comes 
along  with  a  bag  of  gold  under  each  arm.  Widows  arc 
always  in  training,  they  are — and  that's  where  they  have 
the  advantage  over  the  girls." 

The  stranger  had  risen  from  his  seat  and  crossed  over 
to  the  bar,  where  he  poured  out  a  glass  of  water,  and 
with  the  same  averted  face  as  before,  he  was  a  long  while 
in  quenching  his  thirst.  Then  he  returned  to  his  chair 
and  with  a  laugh  as  forced  as  it  was  hollow,  bade  his  com 
panion  go  on  with  his  story  and  his  observations. 

"  I  say,  my  good  fellow,"  he  added,  "yon  are  the  best 
story-teller  I  have  met  in  many  a  day ;  you  are  brief,  but 
you  don't  omit  any  of  the  points  of  interest  in  your  nar 
rations,  and  your  observations  would  do  credit  to  an  older 
head." 

Excited  to  greater  efforts  by  this  compliment,  the  youth 
now  opened  up,  without  the  slightest  reserve,  his  budget 
of  gossip  and  rumor,  and  in  profusion  of  statement  or 
minuteness  of  detail  he  proved  himself  no  feeble  historian 
or  biographer  of  the  eccentric  people  of  Slowville.  In 
the  next  half-hour  his  companion  was  in  possession  of  all 
that  was  at  that  time  known  or  surmised  in  Slowville  con 
cerning  Nicholas  Grundle  and  Emily,  his  wealth  and  her 
relations  to  him ;  Silas  Gagger,  and  his  many  crotchets ; 
his  second  wife,  her  beauty  and  secluded  life;  and  the 
stepson,  whose  requited  love  for  Emily  made  him  the 
envy  of  the  men,  married  or  single,  as  Dibbs  expressed  it, 
for  miles  around.  With  this  information,  supplemented  by 
descriptions  of  Grundle's  hut  and  Gagger's  farm-house,  the 
location  of  which  the  loquacious  and  ready  Dibbs  traced 
with  a  cane  on  the  sanded  floor,  the  stranger  arose,  but 
toned  up  his  coat,  and  took  his  valise,  an  odd-looking 
affair,  in  his  hand. 

"  Why  I  thought  you  were  going  to  stay  at  the  Green 


WHO  WAS  THE  STRANGER?  15 

Tree  all  night?"  said  the  youth,  disappointed  and  sur 
prised  at  the  sudden  preparations  for  departure. 

"  So  I  am,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  some  business  to 
transact  at  the  village  store.  Then  I  may  stray  over  to 
the  Lyceum  for  a  little  while.  You  can  look  for  me  in 
about  two  hours  from  now.  Have  a  fire  and  light  in  my 
room.  I  will  immediately  go  to  it  when  I  return." 

So  saying,  he  went  out,  and  disappeared  down  the  street 
from  the  view  of  the  young  man,  who  watched  him  from 
the  tavern-door,  wondering  who  he  was  and  what  had 
brought  him  to  Slowville. 

"  Take  me  for  a  noodle,  what  a  fool  I  was !"  he  mut 
tered,  going  back  into  the  bar-room  with  a  violent  slam 
of  the  door.  "Here  I  let  him  pump  me  for  an  hour,  and 
I  newer  so  much  as  asked  him  his  name.  Well,  I'll  get 
even  with  him  when  he  comes  back,  and  I'll  find  out  who 
he  is,  or  Bill  Dibbs  will  be  a  noodle,  sure.  And  what  a 
queer-looking  valise  he  had!"  he  continued,  musingly. 
"  It  had  three  locks  on  it.  I  counted  them,  and  the  whole 
thing  looked  as  if  it  was  made  out  of  sheet  iron.  I'll  bet 
he's  got  valuables  in  that.  JEgad,  I  would  like  to  see  in 
side  that  valise.  Well,  if  I  am  smart,  maybe  I'll  get  a 
chance." 

Then  Dibbs  shuffled  into  his  seat  behind  the  bar,  and 
began  to  guess  what  the  man  might  be,  and  what  he  might 
be  carrying  around  in  that  strong,  iron-bound  valise. 

In  the  mean  time  the  stranger  had  passed  through  the 
deepest  shadows  of  the  street,  stealing  along  in  the  darkness 
like  one  in  search  of  hiding.  He  neither  turned  toward 
the  store  nor  gave  more  than  a  hasty  glance  at  the  Lyceum, 
but  going  by  them  with  rapid  steps,  he  took  the  direction 
of  the  country  road.  Along  this  he  strode  with  a  flushed 
face,  for  his  heart  beat  rapidly  and  sent  the  blood  bound 
ing  to  his  temples.  Yet  there  was  little  of  passion  in  his 
countenance — nothing  more  than  a  hard,  cruel  smile  hover 
ing  about  his  lips,  such  as  one  would  wear  who  knew  that 
his  presence  in  the  farm-house  of  Silas  Gagger  would  this 
night  be  both  a  terror  and  a  triumph. 


16  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

CHAPTEK  III. 

A  GLIMPSE  INTO  THE  WA  YSIDE  HUT. 

"  "\7~OU  are  cruel — very  cruel  to  me !"  she  moaned,  in 

JL  a  voice  that  ought  to  have  touched  his  heart  with 
pity,  as  she  sank  down  at  his  feet  and  buried  her  face  on 
his  knees,  weeping  so  silently  that  her  sobs  were  scarcely 
audible. 

The  old  man  was  silent,  and  made  no  reply.  Unutter 
able  anger  and  reproach  were  in  his  eyes,  and  voiceless 
contempt  curled  his  lip.  At  any  other  time  her  tears 
would  have  moved  him,  and  he  would  have  laid  a  caress 
ing  touch  upon  the  fair  head  that  was  pillowed  so  close  to 
him.  But  now,  overpowered  by  feelings  he  could  not  ex 
press,  lie  brought  his  thin  hands  together  in  a  convulsive 
clasp,  and  falling  back  in  his  chair,  gazed  with  a  look  of 
utter  desolation  at  the  dim  fire,  which,  even  as  he  bent  his 
eyes  upon  it,  flickered  faintly  upon  the  hearth  and  then 
expired,  leaving  the  room  in  darkness.  A  congenial  dark 
ness  to  both — he  with  his  hopes  that  had  received  this 
night  such  a  sudden  promise  of  ruin,  and  she  with  fears 
that  now  increased  with  a  strange  indefiniteness  of  form. 

At  length  he  spoke.  Pushing  her  away  from  him  with 
no  gentle  thrust  of  his  hand,  he  rose  to  his  feet.  He  tot 
tered  across  the  floor  in  the  dim  light  of  the  rekindling 
fire,  looking  back  all  the  while  at  where  she  lay  beside  his 
chair,  and  when  he  had  reached  the  farther  end  of  the 
room,  he  said :  "  So  this  is  your  gratitude,  is  it  ?  This 
your  thanks  for  all  my  years  of  love  and  care  ?  Oh,  Em 
ily,  Emily !"  As  he  uttered  her  name,  there  seemed  to 
come  something  of  a  woman's  tenderness  into  his  voice — 
a  deep  yet  loving  reproach. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  at  these  words,  and  ran  to  him 
with  a  little  cry  of  joy.  She  threw  her  arms  about  his 
neck  and  kissed  him,  and  begged  him  not  to  judge  her  so 
harshly,  imploring  him  to  still  believe  that  she  loved 
him. 

;'  You  know,  dear  father,  how  I  love  you  !"  she  cried, 
holding  on  to  him,  with  her  soft  arms  twined  more  closely 


A   GLIMPSE  INTO  THE   WAYSIDE  HUT.  17 

about  him,  as  he  strove  to  put  her  away  from  him. 
"  Dear  father,  don't  push  me  away — your  own  little  Em 
ily  !  I  know  I  cannot  repay  you  for  all  you  have  been 
to  me — so  kind,  so  good,  such  a  dear,  gentle  father  !  For 
give  me,  father  dear,  if  I  have  annoyed  you  in  loving  him. 
I  did  not  mean  to — I  could  not  help  it.  He — he — made 
— me — love  him  I" 

Blushing  at  this  confession — why,  she  knew  not,  for  it 
was  as  honest  as  her  heart  was  pure — she  hid  her  scarlet 
cheek  upon  his  breast. 

These  last  words  brought  back  the  angry  look  which 
her  former  pleading  had  driven  from  his  face. 

He  gave  a  bitter  laugh,  one  of  scorn,  that  ended  in  a 
muttered  curse,  as,  with  all  the  strength  of  his  feeble 
framfe,  he  hurled  her  from  him.  Then,  without  so  much 
as  a  glance  at  her,  as  she  reeled  across  the  room  and  sank 
with  a  low  cry  into  her  chair,  he  took  up  a  candle  and 
lighted  it  at  the  fireplace,  and  turned  to  the  door  that  led 
to  the  cellar.  The  dog,  who  had  been  until  now  a  silent 
spectator  of  what  had  occurred,  rose  from  his  place  by  the 
outer  door  and  came  toward  his  master. 

"  So  you,  too,  are  false  to  me,  are  you  ?  I  should  have 
called  you  Judas,  instead  of  Caesar,"  said  the  old  man,  as 
he  gave  the  animal  a  fierce  kick,  and  ordered  him  back  to 
his  station  at  the  front  door.  The  dog,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  showed  his  teeth  in  a  low  growl  at  his  master, 
and  then  slowly  turned  away,  his  eyes  still  fixed  upon 
him,  and  with  a  defiant  motion,  laid  himself  down  at  the 
feet  of  the  young  girl.  Nicholas  Grundle,  with  an  oath, 
caught  up  his  gun,  and,  quickly  bringing  it  to  his  shoulder, 
leveled  it  at  the  dog ;  but,  before  he  could  fire,  the  girl 
threw  herself  in  front  of  the  animal,  and  begged  for  his 
life,  even  as  if  she  were  begging  for  her  own.  He  slowly 
lowered  the  weapon,  and,  without  a  word  beyond  a  curse 
upon  them  both,  he  unlocked,  with  a  large  key  he  took 
from  his  pocket,  the  cellar-door,  and  disappeared,  with  the 
candle  in  one  hand  and  the  gun  in  the  other,  bolting  the 
door  after  him. 

When  he  had  reached  the  cellar,  which  was  a  damp, 
empty  place,  without  window  or  other  outlet,  except  the 
door  above,  he  first  satisfied  himself,  peering  into  every 


18  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

corner,  that  he  was  alone.  Yet  who  and  what  had  he  tc 
fear?  What  interest  could  this  vault  have  to  any  one 
save  himself?  Even  Emily  had  never  been  in  it,  nor 
wished  to  pry  into  its  secret,  since  he  took  sole  possession 
of  the  place,  six  years  ago,  and  forbade  her  ever  even  al 
luding  to  it  in  his  presence,  or  trying  to  find  out  in  his 
absence  what  might  be  its  great  attraction  to  him.  She 
had  her  suspicions  of  what  he  did  there,  and  that  was 
all.  She  had  never  endeavored  in  any  way  to  confirm 
them ;  for  as  she  grew  older,  and  thought  more  and 
more  for  herself,  they  only  aroused  her  pity,  not  her 
curiosity. 

It  was  a  strange  resort  for  an  old  man,  this  vault,  not 
over  a  dozen  feet  square,  and  scarcely  a  man's  height.  It 
was  filled  with  boxes  and  barrels  of  all  sizes  in  every  con 
dition  of  decay.  They  lay  about  the  floor  in  no  apparent 
order,  but,  covered  with  dust  and  cobwebs,  they  were 
heaped  in  one  place  and  scattered  in  another,  as  if  they 
were  so  much  useless  lumber;  yet  to  their  owner  they 
were  as  useful  as  the  bars  and  bolts  of  a  vault  in  any 
bank.  Some  of  the  smaller  ones  were  empty,  while  many 
of  the  larger  ones,  especially  those  at  the  bottom  of  the 
different  piles,  were  filled  with  refuse  straw  and  hay,  old 
tins,  pieces  of  iron,  horseshoes,  nails,  rags  of  all  kinds, 
and  many  other  such  things,  which  one  might  gather 
who  gleaned  the  earth  of  what  men  had  cast  away. 

Placing  his  candle  on  the  floor,  and  laying  his  gun, 
half-cocked,  beside  it,  he  seated  himself  upon  a  box  in 
the  midst  of  these  strange  treasures.  He  looked  about 
him,  carefully  noting  by  turn  each  box  and  barrel  with  a 
cunning  smile.  Yes,  there  they  all  were  !  Not  one  had 
been  moved  an  inch  from  its  place.  He  rubbed  his 
withered  hands  with  great  glee,  shaking  his  head  with  a 
muttered  chuckle  of  approbation,  which  he  quickly  re 
pressed,  lest  even  this  might  betray  his  secret  to  some 
listening  ear.  Under  the  very  best  conditions  of  dark 
ness,  seclusion  and  silence,  he  never  felt  wholly  secure. 
But  now  his  face  took  on  a  quiet  look  of  exultation,  as  he 
picked  up  the  candle  and  moved  on  tiptoe  to  a  corner  of 
the  cellar,  where  one  large  empty  box  stood  against  the 
wall.  Upon  this  box  his  eyes  were  soon  riveted  with  a 


A   GLIMPSE  INTO   THE  WAYSIDE  HUT.  19 

gaze  as  intense  and  questioning  as  if  it  had  the  power  of 
answering  him.  And  it  had  ! 

Coming  closer  with  the  light,  he  carefully  examined  the 
exact  position  of  this  box,  measuring  with  his  finger  its 
distance  from  the  wall  at  both  ends — at  one  end  an  inch, 
at  the  other  two,  not  a  fraction  more  or  less.  There  were 
several  straws  resting  upon  the  edge  of  this  box.  To  any 
one  else  they  would  have  appeared  to  be  there  by  chance, 
but  Nicholas  Grundle  kne\v  just  how  every  one  of  them 
had  been  laid  by  his  own  hand,  so  that  the  slightest  move 
ment  of  the  box  would  have  caused  each  and  every  one 
of  them  to  fall.  Yes,  every  straw,  a  silent  and  faithful 
sentinel,  was  in  its  place.  No  need  to  look  for  footprints 
around  the  box.  Yet  he  did  so,  groping  with  his  candle 
— not  half  so  bright  as  his  own  keen  eyes — over  every 
inch  of  the  vacant  ground  that  surrounded  it.  There  was 
no  sign  of  a  stranger's  tread.  The  earth  was  just  as  he 
had  left  it  the  night  before,  ready  to  take  any  imprint, 
and  none  had  come. 

What  a  sigh  of  relief  came  from  his  thin  lips !  But 
wras  he  certain  ?  Perhaps!  Glancing  for  just  an  instant 
behind  the  box,  his  eyes  kindled  with  an  intense  light  of 
joy.  Yes,  his  secret  was  safe — his  treasure  undisturbed  ! 
He  still  had  it  in  his  keeping.  No  eye  had  seen  it — no 
hand  had  touched  it !  With  a  smile  that  mellowed  for  a 
moment  his  hard  features,  he  went  trembling  back  to  his 
seat.  It  always  made  him  tremble,  this  assuring  himself 
that  he  had  not  lost  his  treasure;  for,  guard  it  as  he  did. 
he  never  felt  certain  that,  in  some  way — how,  he  could  not 
even  imagine — it  had  not  been  discovered.  And  if  it  were 
discovered?  He  clasped  his  hands  in  terror  at  the 
thought.  To  have  threatened  his  life  would  not  have 
made  him  so  quake  with  fear.  But  it  was  there — all 
there.  The  box  had  not  been  moved ;  the  stone — he 
barely  thought  the  word,  so  great  a  secret  was  it — had 
not  been  touched.  Behind  it,  all  was  safe.  Even  now, 
as  his  eyes  turned  upon  the  spot,  glowing  with  the  ava 
rice  that  burned  in  his  breast  like  a  hot,  consuming  fire, 
he  could  see  his  treasure — ay,  feel  it,  fondle  it,  kiss  it, 
hug  it,  worship  it ;  for  w7hat  god  so  filled  his  thoughts,  by 
day  and  night? 


20  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

Suddenly,  as  he  heard  the  girl  move  overhead,  a  change 
came  over  his  face.  The  smile  went  out  of  it,  disappear 
ing  under  the  frown  of  his  knitting  brows.  A  curse  came 
from  his  lips,  and  after  a  look  of  anger  thrown  upward, 
where  he  knew  she  was  sitting,  he  dropped  his  head  upon 
his  hands  and  closed  his  eyes.  He  must  think  now  what 
it  was  best  for  him  to  do,  and  he  could  not  think  at  all 
with  his  eyes  open — for,  cast  them  where  he  would,  in  his 
attempt  to  think  on  other  things,  he  could  fix  his  gaze 
nowhere  save  on  that  box.  Yet,  like  a  great  staring  eye 
itself,  it  seemed  to  fill  every  range  of  his  vision,  even 
when  he  turned  his  back  upon  it  and  tightly  closed  his 
eyes,  as  he  did  now.  How  luminous  was  the  stone  behind 
the  box !  In  this  retreat  he  had  never  sat  so  long  and 
silently  before.  A  strange  figure  he  was,  seated  there,  his 
spare  white  locks  falling  down  over  his  hands,  in  which  his 
head  was  clasped — a  small  head,  with  a  forehead  that  sloped 
away  from  his  temples,  and  gave  no  sign  of  intellectual 
or  moral  strength.  Over  his  small  and  shriveled  form 
the  lio;ht  of  the  candle  fluttered  with  weird  shadows, 

• 

peering  here  and  there,  with  a  brighter  gleam,  into  the 
holes  and  rents  of  his  tattered  garments,  or  making  a 
hiding-place  of  his  ragged  shoes,  that,  tied  from  heel  to 
toe  with  twine,  scarcely  covered  the  nakedness  of  his  feet. 
Whatever  the  plan  might  have  been  which  he  was  think 
ing  over,  it  was  now  evident,  from  his  agitation,  that  his 
conclusion  had  not  been  reached  without  a  great  sacrifice 
of  his  feelings  and  desires;  for,  as  he  at  last  rose  from  his 
seat,  he  stood  there,  undecided  as  to  what  he  should  do, 
turning,  with  a  perplexed  face,  first  toward  the  stairs,  and 
then  resting  his  eyes,  with  that  avaricious  gleam,  upon  the 
box.  How  could  he,  after  so  many  years  of  successful  con 
cealment,  let  any  eyes  but  his  own  see  his  treasures  ?  Could 
he  trust  even  her  to  keep  his  secret?  Had  she  not  already 
deceived  him?  But  if  he  should  tell  her  all,  and  show 
her  what  should  some  day  be  hers,  would  she  not  cling  to 
him,  as  she  had  ever  done,  and  let  her  wild  dreams  go 
with  the  young  man  who  had  conjured  them  up  for  her? 
Yes,  he  was  sure  of  it !  She  was  a  sensible  girl ;  for  had 
he  not  taught  her  as  no  child  was  ever  taught,  moulding 
every  opinion,  guiding  every  thought?  Had  she  not 


A   GLIMPSE  INTO   THE  WAYSIDE  HUT.  21 

learned  from  his  own  lips,  ever  since  she  was  old  enough 
to  understand,  how  cold,  and  cruel,  and  selfish  the  world 
was — the  world  that  bought  and  sold  everything  for  gold? 

With  a  confident  shake  of  his  head,  he  took  up  gun  and 
candle,  and  made  his  way  up  stairs,  and  as  he  entered  the 
room  the  face  he  turned  upon  her  was  as  kind  as  she  re 
membered  ever  to  have  seen  it.  She  came  to  him,  and 
again  put  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  kissed  him.  "You 
forgive  me, father?  You  will  let  me  love  you  still?  You 
will  not  say  again  that  I  am  an  ungrateful  child  ?" 

He  took  her  soft,  round  face  in  his  two  hands,  and 
•looked  down  into  her  eyes,  where  the  tears  were  still  well 
ing.  It  was  a  long,  searching  gaze  that  he  poured  into 
those  eyes,  as  if  he  there  might  still  read  something  she 
had  riot  told  him  ;  but  out  of  their  blue  depths  there  came 
no  sign  of  fear,  or  shame,  or  deceit.  Only  a  yearning,  sad 
look  was  there,  imploring  his  forgiveness. 

"  I  was  too  hasty,  my  child,"  he  spoke,  at  last,  kissing 
her  cheek,  into  which  the  crimson  tide  was  again  flowing. 
"  You  still  love  me,  I  see ;  you  are  again  my  little  Emily 
— my  own  loving  and  obedient  child." 

"  I  never  loved  you  more  than  I  do  now,  father.  You 
will  never  say  again  that  I  do  not  love  you." 

"No — not  if  you  will  tell  him,  when  next  you  see  him, 
that  you  do  not  care  for  him ;  that  you  cannot  listen  to 
him  any  more ;  that  you  have  no  room  in  your  heart  for 
him — it  all  belongs  to  me.  You  will  tell  him  this  ?" 

Back  went  the  red  tide  from  her  face,  and  a  pallor  crept 
over  it,  even  as  a  chill  ran  through  her  heart  at  his  words. 
Her  head  drooped  upon  his  breast,  and  he  felt  her  form 
tremble  and  quiver,  as  if  in  fear  and  pain;  and  it  was 
both.  He  knew  it. 

"  Come,  child,  be  yourself  again.  You  need  not  answer 
me  now.  I  have  something  to  tell  you  to-night — some 
thing  to — to  show  you,"  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper ; 
"and  when  I  have  told  yon  all,  and  you  have  seen  all, 
then  you  may  tell  me  what  you  will  say  to  this  fellow  who 
would  rob  your  poor  old  father  of  all  he  has  in  the  world 
— his  only  child,  his  only  comfort,  his  only  joy  !" 

He  suddenly  ceased  speaking,  and  intently  listened  to 
some  sound  his  ear  had  just  caught.  There  now  came 


22  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

footsteps  on  the  garden-walk — a  man's  step,  quick  yet 
regular.  The  dog,  who  had  already  been  moving  un 
easily  in  his  place,  with  ears  erect,  now  ran  to  the  door, 
and  instantly  began  to  show  signs  of  friendly  recognition, 
which  did  not  escape  the  old  man. 

"So  he  is  coming!  I  thought  perhaps  he  would  not 
dare  it,"  said  Nicholas  Grundle,  turning  to  the  girl  with  a 
grim  smile ;  "  but " — catching  her  arm  with  a  grasp  that 
buried  itself  in  the  flesh — "  you  will  not  see  him  to-night. 
No,  no !  we  will  not  see  him  now !  Tell  him  to  come  to 
morrow  night.  A\re  will  answer  him  then." 

The  girl  made  no  reply.  What  could  she  say,  with  him 
now  looking  at  her  so  threateningly,  his  face  darkening 
with  anger  as  the  steps  drew  nearer  ?  There  was  a  look 
of  entreaty  on  her  face  which  her  lips  refused  to  express ; 
but  the  grasp  on  her  arm  tightened,  and  he  muttered,  be 
tween  his  set  teeth : 

"  Tell  him  to  go  aM-ay !  Tell  him  to  come  for  his  answer 
to-morrow  night!" 

He  ran  softly  to  the  corner  where  his  gun  stood  and 
picked  it  up,  his  eyes  fastened  on  her  all  the  while ;  while 
she,  with  parted  lips,  and  hands  pressed  upon  her  beating 
heart,  stood  transfixed  with  fear.  What  might  he  not  do? 
There  came  a  rap  upon  the  door.  The  dog  whined  as  he 
ran  his  nose  along  the  sill,  and  then,  with  a  bound,  was  at 
the  girl's  side,  barking  up  at  her  and  wagging  his  tail. 
The  old  man,  leaning  on  the  barrel  of  his  gun,  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  his  child.  Raising  his  hand,  with  a  warning 
gesture,  he  whispered,  in  a  voice  full  of  passion  :  "  Do  as 
I  bid  you  !  Tell  him  to  go !  Tell  him  to  come  to-morrow 
night !" 

Again  there  was  a  heavier  rap.  A  hand  was  laid  upon 
the  latch,  rattling  it  violently,  and  something  pressed 
heavily  against  the  locked  and  cross-barred  door.  And 
now  a  gentle  kick  upon  the  lower  panel  told  that  he  with 
out  was  determined  upon  being  heard  and  admitted.  The 
old  man  sprang  lightly  across  the  room,  and,  standing 
beside  the  girl,  -raised  his  weapon,  leveling  it  at  the  door, 
and  said,  in  a  voice  so  tremulous  and  hollow  that  it  startled 
her  into  instant  action :  "  Unless  you  tell  him  to  go,  I 
shall  fire!" 


A    GLIMPSE  INTO   THE  WAYSIDE  HUT.  23 

She  thrust  aside  the  weapon  with  a  smothered  cry,  and 
ran  to  the  door,  calling  to  him  outside :  "  Volney !  Volney ! 
go  away  to-night,  I  pray  you !  Come  back  to-morrow 
night !" 

"  Emily,"  was  the  quick  reply,  in  a  voice  as  steady  as 
hers  was  broken,  "  open  the  door.  I  must  see  your  father 
to-night !  Come  " — after  a  pause — "  open  the  door,  I  say. 
Why  do  you  refuse  to  let  me  in?  Are  you  jesting  with 
me?  I  am  in  no  mood  for  that." 

"  Oh  no,  no !"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands  with  wild 
dismay,  as  she  glanced  behind  her  and  saw  the  gun  poised 
so  steadily  in  the  direction  of  the  voice  that  had  spoken 
to  her.  "  No,  I  am  not  jesting ;  but  here,  on  my  bended 
knees,  I  beg,  I  pray  you  to  go  away !  Please — please  go !" 

After  a  short  silence,  he  asked :  "  Emily,  is  it  your  wish 
that  I  should  now  go  away,  and  come  back  to-morrow 
night  ?  Or  is  your  father  there,  making  you  say  these 
words  after  him?  If  he  is  prompting  you,  I  shall  stay 
here  till  you  open  the  door." 

"  Go  away  to-night !  Do — do  go  !"  he  heard  her  say, 
"  for  my  sake.  If  you  " — she  hesitated,  and  then  went 
on,  in  a  tone  that  thrilled  him  with  its  tender  entreaty — 
"  if  you  care  for  me,  go  away  to-night !" 

"  For  your  sake,  then,  I  go.  Heaven  knows  how  much 
I  love  you  !"  and  his  strong,  manly  voice  vibrated  with  the 
powerful  emotions  her  voice  and  near  presence  had  aroused. 
"Because  you  ask  me  to  go  away,  and  come  again  to 
morrow,  I  will  not  refuse  to  go.  Good-night  to  you,  and 
good-night  to  your  father !" 

And  as  her  "  Good-night !"  came  back  to  him  in  a  sudden 
tone  of  thankfulness,  he  leaped  from  the  step  and  hurried 
away,  taking  the  direction  of  the  village.  He  had  no 
fears  for  her.  Her  father,  he  knew,  loved  her  too  well  to 
do  her  harm.  His  fears,  if  any,  were  for  himself.  As  he 
pursued  his  way,  he  tried  to  find  a  satisfactory  reason 
for  his  having  been  thus  refused  admittance  to  Nicholas 
Grundle's  hut. 


24  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

WHO   WAS  THE  MAN? 

AT  this  time,  the  sitting-room  in  Silas  Gagger's  farm 
house  was  a  very  cheerful  spot.  It  might  be  windy, 
and  cold,  and  dark  outside,  but  here,  at  least,  was  comfort, 
if  heat  and  light  could  make  it.  A  rousing  wood-fire 
snapped,  and  glowed,  and  roared  in  the  ample  chimney- 
place,  leaping  now  and  then  as  high  as  the  crane,  and 
wrapping  the  empty  hooks  in  its  yellow-white  flames. 
"What  a  glorious  fire  it  was  !  so  warm,  so  bright,  throwing 
its  genial  heat  far  out  into  the  room,  until  the  dark-car 
peted  floor,  the  grimy  walls,  the  narrow  windows,  the 
straight-backed,  staring  chairs,  and  even  the  sombre  old 
clock,  with  its  monotonous  and  melancholy  tick,  seemed 
to  have  for  once  broken  out  into  one  broad  smile  of  en 
joyment.  But  while  the  fire  made  itself  thus  sociable  with 
all  else  in  the  room,  it  could  not  drive  away  the  frown 
from  the  face  of  the  woman  who  sat  in  front  of  it.  That 
frown  had  been  there  an  hour  at  least,  and  it  acted  very 
much  as  if  it  had  come  to  stay.  For,  strangest  of  all, 
when  the  fire  burned  brightest,  the  frown  deepened,  form 
ing  sterner  lines  about  the  full  lips,  and  sending  darker 
looks  from  the  black  eyes,  that  flashed  back  defiance  to 
the  ruddy  blaze. 

A  woman  of  middle  age ;  hair  black  and  luxuriant, 
yet  not  without  a  trace  of  gray  ;  skin  fair  as  a  girl's,  and 
glowing  with  a  warm  tint  on  rounded  cheek,  and  arching 
brow,  and  forehead  smooth  as  satin.  Her  fine,  intellectual 
head  rested  upon  a  neck  delicate  in  every  curve,  while  the 
slightly-drooping  plumpness  of  the  shoulders,  perfect  in 
their  outlines,  gave  full  promise  of  a  tall  and  graceful  fig 
ure,  cast  in  beauty's  rarest  mould.  Such  was  the  woman 
who  sat  alone  in  front  of  the  farm-house  fire.  Her  white, 
tapering  hands  were  crossed  upon  her  lap,  her  beauty  en 
hanced,  if  beauty  could  be  more  than  this,  by  the  plain 
ness  of  her  surroundings.  And  the  extreme  simplicity 
of  her  attire — a  black  gown,  without  ornament  of  any 
kind,  save  the  white  frills  about  her  neck  and  wrists — drew 


WHO    WAS  THE  MAN?  25 

attention  all  the  more  to  the  comeliness  of  her  form,  and 
the  striking  brilliancy  of  her  face,  a  radiance  that  even 
her  frowns  could  not  conceal. 

A  door  to  the  right,  leading  into  the  kitchen,  now 
opened.  A  woman  entered,  with  her  knitting  in  her  hand. 
This  one  already  here  took  no  notice  of  her  beyond  a 
glance.  She  quietly  seated  herself  on  a  stool  beside  the 
fire,  a  little  to  one  side,  where  the  shadow  of  the  broad 
chimney-jamb  fell  upon  her.  She  always  kept  in  shadow 
when  this  other  one  was  by.  So  similar  was  she  in  age 
and  features  to  the  one  who  now  eyed  her  in  the  full  light 
that  they  might  well  have  passed  as  sisters.  But  in  form 
they  differed — this  one  being  small  and  lightsome,  more 
like  the  other's  child.  And  there  was  a  subdued  expres 
sion  cf  sadness  about  her  face  that  the  other's  did  not 
bear. 

Several  moments  passed  in  silence,  the  frowning  face 
still  bent  upon  the  fire,  the  sad  face  leaning  over  the 
needles,  as  if,  with  the  thread,  she  were  weaving  the  story 
of  some  fresh  and  heavy  sorrow.  Now  and  then  a  tear 
dropped  upon  the  fabric,  but  not  unseen  by  the  woman, 
whose  eyes  had  left  the  fire,  and  were  now  upon  her  com 
panion. 

"  Are  you  crying,  Aziel  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  voice  that 
was  soft  and  clear,  but  without  a  trace  of  emotion  in  its 
rich,  even  tones.  "  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  cry.  It 
is  not  your  husband  who  insults  you  every  day — not  your 
son  who,  bitterly  upbraiding  you  and  accusing  you  falsely, 
has  cast  aside  your  love  for  that  of  a  low  and  artful  girl !" 

The  woman  thus  addressed  half  started  from  the  shadow, 
and  looked  up  with  a  sudden  expression  of  pain  and  be 
seeching  on  her  face.  She  was  about  to  speak,  and  give  full 
vent  to  her  feelings  ;  but  something  kept  her  back,  and, 
resuming  her  knitting  with  a  sigh,  she  \vas  again  in  the 
shadow.  "  I  know  what,  you  were  going  to  say,"  went  on 
the  other,  with  just  a  trifle  of  contempt  creeping  into  her 
voice,  but  as  instantly  dismissing  it,  and  coming  back  to 
her  mellow  tones.  "You  were  going  to  take  his  part  in 
stead  of  mine,  as  you  have  steadily  done  from  the  very 
first  day  you  held  him,  a  baby,  in  your  arms.  If  letting 
him  have  his  own  way  through  all  his  childhood — minis- 
3 


26  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

tering  to  every  boyish  fancy,  and  siding  with  him  in  all 
the  tollies  of  his  youth — be  love,  you,  Aziel,  have  loved 
"him  more  than  his  mother." 

The  knitter  by  the  fire  bent  farther  over  her  work. 
More  rapidly  the  needles  sped  in  and  out  of  the  knitting. 
Her  face  paled  and  flushed,  her  heart  beat  fast  and  slow, 
mid  a  tremor  ran  through  the  busy  hands,  dropping  stitches 
now,  instead  of  making  them.  She  moved  deeper  into  the 
shadow.  Was  it  to  avoid  the  heat  of  the  fire  ?  or  did  she 
feel  safer  the  farther  away  from  the  eyes  she  felt  were 
upon  her  ? — eyes  that  yet  might  detect  her  secret,  even 
though  she  drooped  her  head  and  sat  in  the  shadow. 

"  Do  not  think  I  am  so  unkind  as  to  blame  you  for 
loving  the  boy  as  you  have  done,"  resumed  the  other ; 
"  but  now,  when  he  would  cast  his  mother  off',  although 
he  knows  he  is  her  only  comfort  and  joy,  it  is  not  right 
that  you  should  take  his  part.  It  is  neither  best  for  him 
that  you  should  do  so,  nor  kind  to  me.  And  no  one 
knows  it  better  than  you  do,  Aziel,  for  you  are  lacking 
in  neither  good  judgment  nor  strong  affection.  Do  not 
cry.  I  am  not  intentionally  hurting  your  feelings.  You 
have  been  too  faithful  to  me  and  him,  through  all  these 
many  years,  for  me  to  wish  to  do  that.  But  I  had  a  right 
to  expect  that  you  would  join  me  in  opposition  to  this  last 
silly  freak  of  his.  Why,  just  for  one  moment  think  of 
the  absurdity  of  the  project !  A  youth — for  he  is  noth 
ing  else — marrying  a  child — for  she  is  nothing  more ; 
and  the  two  going  alone  to  a  great  city  to  make  their 
fortune — a  city  where  they  may  starve  and  die  before 
their  neighbors  care  to  find  out  their  names.  Indeed,  if 
it  were  not  my  son  who  proposes  to  do  so  foolish  an  act, 
I  could  laugh  at  its  ridiculous  folly  ;  and  yet,  Aziel,  you 
can  see  him  intent  on  such  a  wild  plan,  and  utter  no  pro 
test.  On  the  contrary,  you  tell  him,  as  I  heard  you  to 
day,  that  you  were  sure  he  was  on  the  road  to  fame 
and  fortune.  Better  that  he  had  died  of  neglect,  when 
a  babe  in  your  arms,  than  that  you  should  help  him 
to  turn  against  his  mother  and  encourage  him  to  his 
ruin." 

The  woman  in  the  shadow,  though  greatly  agitated  by 
these  words,  did  not  stop  her  knitting ;  but  before  the 


WHO    WAS  THE  MAN?  27 

other's  voice  had  ceased  she  was  already  replying,  pouring 
out  her  thoughts  in  a  torrent  of  passionate  eloquence, 
burning  on  the  cheek  and  flashing  from  the  eye. 

"  You  accuse  me  wrongfully,"  she  said,  for  an  instant, 
and  only  for  an  instant,  raising  her  eyes.  "  I  have  not 
sided  with  the  boy  against  you — I  love  you  both  too  much 
for  that.  I  cannot  stop  his  loving  the  girl.  Heaven 
knows  I  wish  he  had  never  seen  her  !  I  cannot  prevent  his 
going  away  from  us.  If  I  could,  he  never  should  leave 
your  sight  or  mine.  What  will  this  house  be  without 
him  ?  I  dread  to  think  of  it !  Yet  he  will  go.  You 
know  how  determined  he  is,  and  how  hopeful  and  am 
bitious  ;  and  what  is  there  about  the  life  of  this  farm  to 
attract  him  ?  He  is  far  too  good  for  it.  I  cannot  blame 
him  for  wanting  to  leave  it.  We  cannot  expect  to  always 
have  him  with  us.  He  is  a  man  now,  and  another  love 
than  that  of  nurse  and  mother  has'  taken  possession  of 
him.  If  he  must  and  will  go  from  us,  I  say  let  him  go 
with  our  blessing  and  love.  It's  little  else  he  can  carry 
with  him  from  this  place,  except  the  contempt  and  hatred 
of  his  stepfather.  And,  if  he  loves  the  girl,  why  should 
he  not  marry  her?  She  may  be  the  very  woman  to  save 
his  earnings,  make  his  heart  glad  with  her  confidence, 
and  encourage  him  when  all  else  in  the  world  fails  him. 
She  may  be  poor,  but  she  is  beautiful.  You  would  say 
so,  if  you  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  as  I  did  yesterday ; 
and  you  could  not  look  into  her  face  and  not  see  goodness 
written  all  over  it.  Whatever  the  great  city  has  in  store 
for  them,  we  must,  at  all  events,  let  them  leave  us  with 
our  blessing.  You  would  not  refuse  them  that?  When 
he  told  me  he  should  positively  go  in  a  few  days,  could  I 
say  less  to  him  than  that  I  believed  he  would  be  success 
ful,  though  all  the  time  my  heart  was  full  of  misgivings 
and  fears  ?  Would  you  have  had  me  deny  him  the  good 
opinion  of  his  nurse — my  best  wishes  and  hopes  ?  Surely 
it  was  little  enough  for  me  to  give  him." 

Here  her  voice  died  out  as  suddenly  as  she  had  begun, 
and,  intent  upon  her  work,  she  bent  over  it  in  silence,  and 
her  tears  fell  in  the  shadow.  The  other  made  no  answer, 
but  as  she  listened  the  frown  had  slowly  died  out  of  her 
face.  A  calm  look  came  upon  it — a  calmness  of  control 


28  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

rather  than  that  of  resignation,  though  now  her  words 
were  such. 

"  You  are  right,  Aziel,"  she  said,  leaning  her  head  upon 
her  hand,  and  ga/ing  into  the  fire  with  an  abstracted  air, 
such  as  one  has  when  memory  is  busy  with  the  thoughts. 
"You  have  spoken  well  for  him — you  should  have  been 
his  mother,  not  I.  You  ought  to  have  suffered  and  sac 
rificed  all  I  have  for  him  these  long,  weary  years — years 
that  began  even  before  his  birth.  You  know  something 
of  it,  Aziel,  but  not  all — not  all — although  you  have  been 
my  only  companion,  my  only  friend,  and  must  have  seen 
and  heard  much.  There  was  more  I  could  not  tell  you, 
for  very  shame,  even  in  my  most  confidential  moods. 
And  what  is  now  the  end  of  it  all?  Nothing  but  disap 
pointment,  and  disappointment  so  bitter  and  grievous  that 
I  could  not  bear  it,  had  not  all  these  years  prepared  me 
even  for  this." 

"  I  know  it  is  hard,  very  hard,  for  you  to  have  him  go 
away,"  rejoined  the  other,  after  a  long  pause,  as  if  she 
were  weighing  what  it  were  best  to  say;  "but  is  it  not 
better  for  him  that  he  should  go?  You  know  how  he 
dislikes  the  farm  and  everything  about  it.  You  see  the 
hatred  between  him  and  his  stepfather  increasing  every 
day,  until  I  fear  sometimes  it  will  come  to  blows,  or  some 
thing  worse,  when  he  hears  his  mother  spoken  to  as  yon 
were  to-day.  Besides,  there  is  no  opportunity  in  this  vil 
lage  for  him  to  make  his  talents  available.  What  mill  is 
there  here,  where  he  could  work  over  the  machinery,  and 
get  out  his  inventions  and  patents,  as  I  am  sure  he  will 
when  he  has  a  chance?  No,  Slowville  is  no  place  for  a 
genius  like  his;  but  in  a  city  he  could  make  fame  and  for 
tune,  and  I  know  you  would  be  only  too  glad  for  him  to 
have  both." 

"  So  I  would  ;  but  not  if  to  get  them  he  must  leave  his 
mother  here.  Do  I  not  hate  the  place,  and  all  its  sur 
roundings,  as  much  as  he  does?  Would  I  have  ever  come 
here,  had  it  not  been  for  his  sake?  Was  it  for  a  home  for 
myself,  or  for  him,  that  I  married  this  man  ?  You  know," 
with  a  trifle  of  bitterness  about  the  lips,  "why  I  am  here, 
and  why  yon  urged  my  coming  here  as  this  man's  wife; 
and  now,  when  the  boy  is  old  enough  to  begin  to  pay  me 


WHO    WAS  THE  MAN?  29 

back  in  love  and  devotion  for  my  trials  and  sacrifices,  what 
does  he  do?  Hark  !  was  that  a  footstep  outside?"  Then, 
glancing  at  the  clock  :  "  It  cannot  be  either  of  them — it  is 
only  a  little  past  nine,  and  the  Lyceum  does  not  close  till 
ten." 

They  listened  intently,  turning  toward  the  door.  Yes, 
there  were  footsteps  outside — soft  ones — not  on  the  grav 
eled  walk,  but  stealing  along  on  the  deadening  sod  under 
the  windows.  They  waited  to  hear  a  knock  upon  the  door, 
but  no  knock  came,  and  now  the  footsteps  had  ceased,  and 
whoever  it  was  he  seemed  to  have  passed  on.  The  ques 
tioning  glances  of  the  women  met.  In  the  face  of  the  one 
in  the  chair  was  no  fear,  but  on  the  face  of  the  other,  by 
the  chimney,  there  came  a  blanched  look — a  look  it  always 
wore*  whenever  a  stranger  came  to  the  house.  The  woman 
in  the  chair  arose,  and,  taking  the  candle  in  her  hand,  went 
to  the  door. 

"  Do  not  open  the  door,"  whispered  Aziel,  her  fears 
finding  utterance  in  fresh  alarm  at  the  movement  of  her 
companion.  "  Remember,  we  are  alone." 

"  And  for  that  very  reason  it  is  better  that,  whoever  this 
tramp  may  be,  he  should  see  we  are  not  afraid  of  him. 
If  you  are  afraid,  go  lock  yourself  in  your  room ;  I  shall 
see  who  it  is." 

With  these  words  she  opened  the  door,  and  threw  it 
wide,  holding  the  candle  above  her  head.  Its  faint  beams 
penetrated  the  darkness  for  an  instant,  and  then,  revealing 
nothing,  went  out  in  a  gust  of  wind.  But  still  resolved 
upon  her  search,  the  woman  stepped  out  upon  the  door- 
stone,  and  peered  about  her.  At  first  she  saw  nothing,  but 
as  her  eyes  began  to  accommodate  themselves  to  the  gloom, 
she  thought  she  detected  the  form  of  a  man  standing  beside 
a  lilac  bush,  close  to  the  farther  window. 

"  Who  is  there?"  she  asked,  in  a  voice  as  dauntless  as  it 
was  commanding.  "  You  need  not  try  to  hide  yourself. 
I  see  you  plainly.  What  do  you  want  ?" 

At  these  words  the  man  quickly  emerged  from  his  con 
cealment  and  came  forward. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mrs.  Silas  Gagger,"  he  said,  with  a 
voice  that  was  feigned,  "  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  this  is  the 
lady." 

3* 


30  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  she  asked,  her  voice  hollow,  as  she 
shrank  back  from  him  into  the  doorway. 

And  then,  as  if  she  had  lost  power  of  further  motion, 
she  stood  looking  at  him,  with  parted  lips,  and  eyes  that 
glared  with  terror  as  his  face  drew  nearer.  He  stepped 
upon  the  sill  and  stood  in  front  of  her.  The  light  of  the 
fire  fell  upon  his  face  and  illumined  his  features.  His 
wicked  eyes  glowed  up  at  her  with  a  mocking  smile.  That 
look,  that  smile! — they  belonged  but  to  one  man,  Avere  he 
living  or  dead.  She  uttered  a  cry  of  recognition  and  dismay, 
and  would  have  fallen  had  he  not  caught  her.  But  as  she 
felt  his  arms  about  her,  she  quickly  came  back  to  herself. 
She  struggled  out  of  his  grasp,  flung  aside  his  arms,  and 
confronted  him  as  of  old,  with  a  look  of  fierce  defiance. 

"  Mrs.  Silas  Gagger  has  not  changed,  I  see,  since  she 
was  Mrs.  Seth  Slade.  Nor  have  I,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh, 
pulling  off  his  beard,  and  letting  a  gleam  of  triumph  play 
over  his  shaven  cheeks,  a  moustache  and  goatee  still  con 
cealing  his  taunting  mouth  and  firm,  projecting  chin. 


CHAPTER  V. 

NEVER  SO   UNWELCOME. 

WHEN  she  first  heard  the  man's  voice,  the  woman  by 
the  fireplace  had  been  so  overcome — for  she  instant 
ly  recognized  it — that  she  was  paralyzed  with  terror.  She 
could  not  move,  though  she  strove  to  rise  and  make  her 
escape.  Like  a  statue  she  sat  there,  her  eyes  fixed  with  a 
wide  stare  upon  the  door,  her  work  poised  in  her  motion- 
It'-s  hands.  But  when  the  man  entered  the  room  and 
spoke  again,  she  was  startled  into  action.  Dropping  her 
work,  she  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  mouth,  lest  it  might 
speak  and  betray  her,  and  shrank  deeper  into  the  shadow, 
forcing  herself  down  into  the  corner  behind  the  jamb. 
Crouched  there  like  some  hunted  creature,  she  still  kept 
her  eyes  upon  the  figure  at  the  door.  How  loudly  her 
heart  beat  now !  It  seemed  as  if  it  would  bound  from 
her  bosom.  And  yet,  where  was  all  the  blood  going  ? 


NEVER  SO    UNWELCOME.  31 

Certainly  not  into  her  veins,  for  she  was  shivering  with 
cold  in  every  limb,  until  she  felt  herself  growing  rigid 
as  ice. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  man  and  woman  near  the  door 
had  been  silently  eying  each  other,  she  with  that  fearless 
and  defiant  look,  he  with  the  hard  and  cruel  smile,  as  his 
eyes,  slowly  surveying  her  from  head  to  foot,  came  to  a 
rest  again  upon  her  face. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  at  length,  breaking  out  into  an  indif 
ferent  laugh,  "this  is  not  a  warm  welcome,  to  say  the 
least.  But  men  must  not  expect  to  come  back  from  their 
graves  and  find  their  wives  as  they  left  them.  So  this  is 
Mrs.  Silas  Gagger?  Mrs.  Gagger" — approaching  her 
and  extending  his  hand — "  allow  me  to  congratulate  you. 
I  wiek  you  happiness." 

She  hesitated  a  moment.  Should  she  try  to  conciliate 
him  ?  No ;  he  was  not  the  man  for  that.  She  retreated 
from  him  a  pace,  then  proudly  drawing  her  form  to  its 
fullest  height,  she  looked  upon  him,  her  eyes  glowing  with 
a  stronger  light,  the  thin,  quivering  nostrils  dilating,  and 
the  parted  lips  curling  with  contempt  as  they  slightly 
disclosed  the  white  tracery  of  her  teeth. 

"So,"  with  a  nonchalant  toss  of  his  hand,  "you  will 
not  shake  hands  with  me?  Well,  perhaps  you  will  speak 
to  me.  After  a  seven  years'  absence  you  ought  at  least  to 
inquire  after  my  health.  Common  politeness  requires  that 
much.  Of  course  I  do  not  expect  you  to  congratulate  me 
on  my  escape  from  shipwreck — that  would  be  asking  too 
much  of  your  widowed  love.  And  just  now  I  see  you 
are  wishing  me  with  all  your  heart  at  the  bottom  of 
the  Pacific." 

"  Rather  than  you  should  be  here,  I  would  willingly 
myself  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean."  She  spoke  at  last, 
but  not  in  a  broken  or  agitated  voice. 

There  was  a  firmness  in  her  tone  that  accorded  well  with 
her  determined  bearing  toward  him. 

"  Oh,  I  comprehend  you  now.  I  see  you  are  afraid  of 
my  intentions/'  with  a  tantalizing  smile.  "  You  think 
that  I  have  come  back  to  take  you  from  the  arms  of  your 
second  love.  I  don't  look  much  like  a  second  Enoch 
Arden,  do  I?  Now  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  argument 


32  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEX. 

— and  you  were  always  good  at  argument,  Mrs.  Gagger, 
though  slightly  dogmatic,  if  I  remember  rightly — suppose 
that  I  have  come  hack  to  claim  my  dear  wife  of  former 
davs,  what  have  you  to  say  against  such  a  loving  action 
on  my  part '.'  ( 'ertainly  it  would  be  an  evidence  of  my 
undying  alleetion." 

"  Thank  Heaven  I  am  not,  in  that  respect  at  least,  in 
the  power  of  your  affection  or  your  hate  !"  she  replied, 
looking  steadily  at  him,  an  air  of  triumph  in  voice  and 
feature.  "  You  can  come  here  and  break  up  my  home, 
and  thus  add  to  my  many  obligations  to  you;  but,  strive 
with  all  your  wicked  and  malicious  heart,  you  cannot 
make  me  your  wife.  That  much  of  evil  is  not  in  your 
power." 

"Well,  perhaps  not;  but  for  the  present  we  will  not 
argue  the  question.  Come,  let  us  sit  down  and  talk  over 
old  times.  That  fireplace  looks  very  inviting.  It  needs 
a  little  more  wood  now.  If  you  sit  in  front  of  it  a  while, 
it  may  thaw  you  out." 

So  saying,  he  picked  the  candle  up  from  the  floor,  where 
it  had  fallen,  and,  replacing  it  in  the  stick,  struck  a  light. 
Then  he  threw  aside  his  hat  and  light  overcoat  with  the 
eareles-  case  of  years  ago,  and,  taking  up  a  chair,  drew  it 
over  to  the  fireplace,  beckoning  her  to  follow7.  She  did 
not  do  so,  but  stood  where  she  was,  resolved  not  to  yield 
in  the  slightest  to  him  until  she  had  found  out  the  rea-on 
for  his  coming  ;  then  she  would  decide  how  further  to  treat 
him.  .He  had  placed  the  chair  beside  the  table  where  he 
was  standing,  and  was  putting  the  candle  on  the  mantel 
shelf,  when  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  figure  crouching  in  its 
hiding-place  near  his  feet. 

"  Hello  !"  he  exclaimed,  bending  over  the  woman,  whose 
white  lace  was  now  turned  up  to  him  in  an  agony  of 
dread.  "Bless  my  soul!  this  is  Aziel  Loyd  !  Why, 
A/icl,  what  makes  you  look  so  frightened?  You  should 
take  lessons  from  your  mistress.  Upon  my  word  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you  !" 

And,  despite  her  struggles  to  evade  him,  he  seized  her 
hands  ;  then,  drawing  her  from  her  hiding-place,  he  caught 
her  in  his  arms  and  raised  her  to  her  feet — evidently  pleased 
at  her  resistance,  for  he  laughed — holding  her  out  at  arm's 


NEVER  SO    UNWELCOME.  33 

length.  She  broke  away  from  him  with  a  fierce  cry,  cover 
ing  her  face  with  her  hands  ;  then,  standing  for  an  instant 
irresolute  whether  to  flee  the  house  or  remain,  .she  ran  across 
the  room,  and  sought  refuge  beside  her  mistress,  where  she 
gave  way  to  a  flood  of  nervous  tears. 

"  Well  !"  he  exclaimed,  raising  his  hands  with  a  gesture 
of  mock  surprise,  "  my  welcome  gets  worse  instead  of 
better.  The  wife  of  my  bosom  despises  me,  and  the  nurse 
of  my  only  son  refuses  me  even  so  little  as  a  look  of 
greeting  !" 

He  turned  his  back  upon  them,  and  began  to  pile  wood 
upon  the  fire,  until  the  chimney  roared  with  the  mighty 
flame,  and  the  light  filled  the  room  with  the  brightness  of 
day.  Then,  leisurely  seating  himself  where  he  had  a  full 
view  -of  his  companions,  he  lay  back  in  his  chair,  and 
laughed  heartily. 

"  I  declare,"  he  went  on,  between  his  bursts  of  hilarity, 
"  you  two  women  haven't  changed  a  bit  since  I  saw  you 
last.  Both  plump  and  saucy.  You  have  evidently  been 
feeding  on  the  fat  of  the  land  during  my  absence.  Yes, 
these  are  comfortable  quarters,  I  must  admit,"  glancing 
around  the  room  with  an  air  of  appreciation.  "  I  suppose 
you  have  a  spare  room  for  me  to-night?  Ah,  ladies,  still 
inhospitable?  no  invitation  to  remain?"  he  resumed,  after 
he  had  waited  for  a  reply  and  received  none.  "  Then  I 
must  wait  until  the  gentlemen  return.  They  may  be  more 
civil  when  they  find  out  who  I  am.  My  wife's  husband 
and  my  dear  son  will  be  glad  to  see  me,  I  am  sure." 

lie  wheeled  himself  about  in  his  chair,  and  took  a  news 
paper  from  the  table,  which  he  now  pretended  to  be  reading 
very  intently.  But  his  eyes,  hidden  beneath  the  ambuscade 
of  his  drawn  brows,  were  askance  upon  his  companions, 
while  his  ears  were  strained  to  catch  the  slightest  whisper 
that  might  pass  between  them. 

Several  moments  went  by  in  dead  silence,  save  the  stifled 
sobs  that  came  from  Aziel.  She  seemed  to  have  lost  as 
much  control  of  herself  as  the  other  still  possessed.  And 
this  continued  exhibition  of  alarm  and  grief,  which  her  mis 
tress  had  been  unable  to  subdue  by  meaning  look  or  author 
itative  gesture,  now  called  for  more  summary  treatment. 

"  Go  to  your  room,"  said  her  companion,  in  a  voice  of 

c 


34  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

mild  command,  leading  her  to  the  door.  "There  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  show  such  fear.  His  return  cannot 
affect  you.  Besides,  it  is  better  that  we  should  be  alone." 
She  opened  the  door,  and  pushed  her  gently  forward  into 
the  entry. 

Aziel  found  her  tongue  now.  She  caught  the  other's 
hand  in  a  quick,  nervous  pressure,  and  said,  in  a  voice  so 
anxious  she  could  scarcely  repress  it  to  a  whisper :  "  You 
will  not  be  rasli  ?  You  will  remember  the  boy?  You 
will  do  anything  for  his  sake?'' 

A  flash  of  impatient  indignation  came  across  the  face  of 
the  mistress.  Could  this  nurse  never  think  of  any  one  but 
the  boy?  Was  he  the  only  one  in  all  this  trouble  whose 
welfare  inu-t  be  consulted  ?  Was  his  mother  to  endure 
every  misery  and  degradation  that  he  might  be  free  from 
annoyance — free  to  go  away  and  leave  her  to  bear  her 
burdens  alone  ? 

Without  replying,  she  closed  the  door  upon  the  plead 
ing,  scared  face,  and  came  back  into  the  room,  her  coun 
tenance  again  singularly  calm  despite  the  contending  emo 
tions  in  her  breast.  And  now,  with  a  firm  step,  she  slowlv 
crossed  the  floor  and  stood  beside  the  reader,  a  little  in 
advance  of  him,  where,  should  he  raise  his  eyes,  they  could 
look  full  into  her  face.  He  kept  on  reading  as  if  she  were 
a  thousand  miles  away  and  he  the  sole  and  comfortable 
occupant  of  the  apartment. 

"Seth  Slade" — she  spoke  his  name  with  the  slightest 
tremor — "  why  have  you  come  here  ?  What  do  you  in 
tend  to  do?"' 

He  slowly  glanced  up  at  her,  and  returned  her  steady 
ga/e  with  a  derisive  smile;  then,  with  a  light  laugh,  he 
tossed  the  paper  aside,  and  motioned  her  to  a  seat  opposite 
him,  by  the  table. 

"  Com"  At  down,  Annie — Mrs.  Gagger,  I  mean  !"  with  a 
mocking  apologetic  wave  of  his  hand.  u  Fact  is,  I  cannot 
forget  our  old  relation  to  each  other.  So  you  have  at  last 
taken  enough  interest  in  your  dear  departed  to  ask  him  his 
intentions.  Why  have  I  come  here  ?  and  what  do  I  intend 
to  do  ?  Two  short  questions,  but  very  comprehensive. 
But  I  remember  you  always  were  both  precise  and  com 
prehensive  in  your  way  of  speaking  !'' 


NEVER  SO    UNWELCOME.  35 

She  had  seated  herself,  and,  with  an  elbow  leaning  care 
lessly  upon  the  table,  she  had  assumed  an  attitude  of  in 
different  attention,  although  her  eyes  never  for  an  instant 
left  his  face,  quietly  yet  intently  scanning  every  feature  as 
he  spoke.  His  words  had  too  often  deceived  her.  She 
must  in  his  face  now,  if  possible,  read  the  secret  of  his 
coming  here  to-night. 

"  You  are  trying  to  study  me  out,  I  see,"  he  said,  strok 
ing  his  moustache  with  his  long  white  hand,  upon  the  fore 
finger  of  which  shone  the  ring  which  Dibbs,  of  the  Green 
Tree,  had  so  much  admired — the  coiled  serpent  with  ruby 
eyes.  "Now,"  with  a  malicious  twinkle,  "you  would  be 
delighted  to  hear  me  say,  '  My  dear  wife  of  a  short  wrhile 
ago,  I  have  merely  called  here  to-night  to  assure  myself 
that  y6*n  are  at  last  happy;  that  in  the  love  of  your  second 
husband  you  find  that  joy  of  affection,  that  wealth  of  love, 
that  peace  of  mind,  which  were  denied  you  in  your  first 
M-edded  life;  and,  having  seen  you  thus  happy,  I  am  going 
away  for  ever,  and  you  will  never  see  or  hear  of  me  again, 
any  more  than  if  I  were  really  stretched  at  full  length  on 
the  bottom  of  the  Pacific.'  That  is  what  you  would  like 
to  hear  me  say,  isn't  it?'' 

"  You  did  not  come  here  to  say  anything  like  that,"  she 
rejoined,  a  trifle  of  contempt  in  her  voice.  "  Your  errand 
is  far  different,  and  whatever  it  is,  you  had  better  state  it 
without  further  delay,"  glancing  at  the  clock,  "unless  you 
want  other  witnesses  of  our  meeting.  And  I  am  sure  you 
do  not,  or  you  would  not  have  come  here  so  secretly,  and 
at  this  hour." 

"  Sharp  as  ever,"  he  said,  in  a  bantering  tone,  "  and 
correct,  as  usual.  Yes,  we  had  better  settle  our  business 
by  ourselves ;  and,  as  long  as  you  do  not  object  to  a  little 
secrecy  in  the  matter,  it  is  better  for  us  both.  So  we  will 
proceed  to  business.  You  have  married  a  rich  man,  I 
hear?" 

"  Well,  what  of  that  ?  I  have  seen  very  little  of  his 
money.  And  if  you  have  come  here  for  money,  you  will 
certainly  go  away  without  it,"  was  her  ready  and  resolute 
answer. 

"  Indeed !"  elevating  his  eyebrows,  and  staring  at  her 
in  feigned  disappointment.  "Then  there  is  not  much 


36  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

chance  for  me  to  turn  an  honest  penny.  You  have  no 
money  to  purchase  my  silence,  and  he  will  probably  spare 
none  to  buy  my  title  to  you  as  my  wife." 

"  That  title  is  no  longer  good.  The  law  destroyed  it 
years  ago.  You  can  never  recover  it ;"  and,  more  vehe 
mently  :  "  Thank  Heaven  that  this  once,  at  least,  the  law  is 
on  the  side  of  the  weaker  party.  I  was  your  wife  and 
slave  seven  years  ago,  but  I  am  neither  now — " 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  ?"  he  interrupted,  as  blandly 
as  if  he  were  preserving  the  amenities  of  polite  conversa 
tion,  and  did  not  wish  to  flatly  contradict  her.  "  The  law, 
as  I  have  read  it,  states  the  present  case  very  positively  in 
my  favor.  Ah,  here  it  is!"  taking  from  his  pocket-book 
a  sheet  of  letter  paper,  which  he  slowly  opened,  the  cun 
ning  of  his  smile  deepening.  "Shall  I  read  you  this 
paragraph,  which  I  recently  copied  verbatim  from  the  laws 
of  Pennsylvania  on  the  subject  of  divorce?" 

"It  makes  no  difference  to  me  what  you  read.  I  know 
my  present  position  is  perfectly  lawful.  You  were  absent 
t\vo  years;  and,  besides,  you  were  reported  drowned  by 
shipwreck.  These  two  circumstances  gave  me  the  legal 
right  to  marry  again." 

"  Certainly  you  are  correct,  my  dear  madam,  as  far  as 
yon  have  stated  the  general  law;  but  every  law  has  its 
miscellaneous  provisions,  as  the  lawyers  call  them,  which 
to  my  mind  are,  like  the  postscript  to  a  lady's  letter,  the 
most  important  part  of  the  whole  document.  Listen  a 
moment,  and  you  will  agree  with  me,  I  think." 

Then,  taking  the  candle,  he  held  it  close  to  the  paper, 
and  read,  in  an  unmoved  and  deliberate  voice,  the  follow 
ing: 

"  '  If  any  husband  or  wife,  upon  any  false  rumor,  in  appearance  well 
founded,  of  the  death  of  the  other  (when  such  other  has  been  absent 
for  the  space  of  two  whole  years),  hath  married,  or  shall  marry  again, 
he  or  she  shall  not  be  liable  to  the  pains  of  adultery.' 

"That,  I  take  it,"  lowering  the  paper  and  looking  at 
her  intently,  "  is  your  view  of  the  case.  Before  you  mar 
ried  again,  there  had  been  a  well-founded  rumor  of  my 
death,  and  I  had  also  been  absent  for  the  space  of  two 
years.  Am  I  right?  Did  you  marry  under  those 
conditions  ?" 


NEVER  SO    UNWELCOME.  37 

"  I  did,"  she  stoutly  rejoined.  "  I  read  your  name 
among  the  lost  in  a  paper,  which  was  sent  me  from  Lon 
don,  giving  an  account  of  the  shipwreck.  And  as  to  your 
absence,  you  know  it  is  fully  seven  years  this  very  month 
since  I  last  saw  you." 

"  I  hope  the  narrative  of  the  shipwreck  was  very  inter 
esting  to  you.  It  must  have  been  quite  a  pleasure  to  road 
my  name  among  the  lost.  I  thought  it  would  be,  when  I 
got  a  friend  to  mail  you  the  paper."  This  he  said  with  his 
face  struggling  between  a  frown  and  a  leer. 

"You,  then,  concocted  the  lie,  and  sent  me  the  paper 
containing  it !"  She  spoke  slowly,  turning  away  from 
his  tantalizing  gaze.  "  What  a  fool  I  was,  not  to  have 
suspected  it !" 

"  Certainly,  my  dear ;  and  I  never  should  have  sent  you 
such  sad  news,  had  I  any  idea  you  would  marry  again  and 
bring  yourself  into  trouble  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.  How 
ever,  we  cannot  change  the  facts,  nor  the  law  either.  Now 
for  my  side  of  the  case  in  hand ;  and  what  it  is  best  to  do, 
I  will  leave  you  to  decide." 

He  went  on  reading,  with  a  stronger  stress  of  em 
phasis  : 

"  '  But  it  shall  be  in  the  election  of  the  party  remaining  unmarried, 
at  his  or  her  return,  to  insist  to  have  his  or  her  former  wife  or  husband 
restored,  or  to  have  his  or  her  own  marriage  dissolved  and  the  other 
party  to  remain  with  the  second  husband  or  wife  ;  and  in  any  suit  or 
action,  instituted  for  this  purpose  within  six  months  after  such  return, 
the  Court  may  and  shall  sentence  and  decree  accordingly.' 

"  There,  my  dear  madam,"  replacing  the  paper  in  his 
pocket,  and  setting  the  candle  on  the  mantel  and  turning 
to  her ;  "  you  have  heard  the  law,  which,  as  I  have  read 
it,  you  can  verify  at  any  lawyer's  office.  By  the  law  you 
see  that,  if  I  choose,  I  can  have  my  former  wife  restored 
to  me.  So  it  depends  solely  on  my  choice  and  will 
whether  Mrs.  Gagger  remains  as  she  is,  or  again  be 
comes  Mrs.  Seth  Slade." 

An  ashen  pallor  was  spreading  over  lip,  and  brow,  and 
cheek  ;  a  dead  look  was  creeping  into  her  eyes,  and  she 
threw  out  her  hands  with  a  groping  gesture.  He  stopped 
suddenly.  He  sprang  toward  her,  just  in  time  to  catch 
her  head  as  it  fell  forward  heavily  upon  the  table.  He 

4 


38  AS  IT  31  AY  IIATPEX. 

turned  her  face  upward  and  spoke  to  her,  his  tones,  for 
the  moment,  in  softened  command.  But  no  reply  came 
from  the  livid  parted  lips.  He  leaned  closer  to  her  face, 
and  her  lo\v,  soft  breath  touched  his  cheek.  Then  he 
knew  she  had  only  swooned  away. 

At  this  moment  he  heard  a  door  open.  He  looked  up, 
and  A/iel  stood  on  the  threshold,  one  hand  to  her  fright 
ened  face,  the  other  clasped  upon  her  heart,  which,  like 
the  one  in  the  chair,  seemed  to  have  stopped  its  beating. 

"  Come  here,"  he  said,  beckoning  to  her.  "  I  must  be 
going  now.  She  has  only  fainted.  When  she  comes  to, 
tell  her  I  will  be  back  a  week  from  to-night,  if  I  can  do 
so  with  secrecy ;  and  I  will  look  out  for  that." 

So  saying,  he  replaced  his  beard,  caught  up  his  coat 
and  hat,  and  disappeared  through  the  outer  door. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

TOUCHING  A  TENDER  SPOT. 

SILAS  G AGGER  was  the  complete  personification  of 
egotism,  self-conceit  and  vanity.  The  perfections  of 
his  character  were  the  constant  theme  of  his  contempla 
tion  ;  his  opinions  on  every  subject  were  alone  correct ; 
and  no  one  could  pay  him  sufficient  attention,  or  his  opin 
ions  too  much  respect.  Yet,  notwithstanding  all  these 
qualities,  of  which  he  prided  himself  the  sole  possessor, 
the  people  of  Slowville  neither  respected  him  nor  agreed 
in  the  slightest  with  his  opinions.  They  looked  upon  him 
as  a  proud,  selfish,  irritable  and  disagreeable  old  fellow. 
His  opinions  they  always  greeted  with  ready  opposition, 
and  more  frequently  with  laughs  of  derision,  as  he  en- 
di-avored  to  give  them  greater  weight  and  enforce  their 
acceptance  by  violence  of  language  and  manner.  Such 
was  the  man  who,  with  his  hat  on  his  head,  had  risen,  that 
evening,  in  his  seat  in  the  Lyceum,  and,  despite  the  loud 
calls  to  order,  was  insisting  on  being  allowed  to  take  part 
in  the  discussion. 


TOUCHING  A   TENDER  SPOT.  39 

"  The  gentleman  is  not  in  order,"  said  the  President. 
"  Not  being  a  member,  he  is  not  entitled  to  the  floor  with 
out  unanimous  consent.  He  will  please  be  seated." 

Sijas  Gugger  did  not  take  his  seat.  On  the  contrary, 
he  shook  his  fist  defiantly  at  the  President,  and  then  turned 
glaringly  upon  the  audience,  whose  boisterousness  in 
creased  every  moment.  "  These  are  the  days  of  free 
speech!"  he  cried.  "No  one,  be  he  man,  devil,  or 
angel,  shall  stop  my  voice !  This  is  the  Town  Hall  ;  I 
pay  my  taxes,  ancl  have  right  to  use  it —  Beyond 
tliis  his  words  became  inaudible,  amid  the  riot  of  sound 
that  swept  over  the  room. 

Silas  Gagger's  eyes  flashed  fire,  the  red  heat  of  indigna 
tion  crimsoned  his  cheeks,  and  brows,  and  temples,  making 
his  long  white  beard  seven-fold  whiter  by  contrast.  He 
shook  his  clenched  fists  at  those  around  him,  and  with  ges 
ticulations  more  violent,  yelled  defiance  at  the  top  of  his 
voice.  The  storm  of  opposition  to  him  only  increased  ;  the 
more  he  roared,  and  stamped,  and  swore — and  he  was  doing 
all  three  now — the  louder  became  the  uproar,  until  the  very 
floor  and  walls  seemed  to  be  vibrating  with  the  commotion. 
But  just  now,  when  those  in  his  immediate  vicinity  began 
to  look  out  for  some  violence  at  his  hands,  and  were  pre 
paring  to  eject  him  on  the  first  show  of  it,  he  suddenly 
ceased.  Then,  without  so  much  as  a  parting  glance  at  the 
assembly,  he  walked  leisurely  out  of  the  room.  "Just 
like  him  !"  exclaimed  several.  "  Always  doing  the  oppo 
site  of  what  you  expect." 

Descending  the  stairs  with  a  smile  of  contempt — what 
a  contempt  "he  always  had  for  those  who  were  afraid  to  hear 
the  truth,  the  truth  as  he  alone  could  reveal  it  to  them  ! — 
he  sought  out  his  vehicle  and  started  homeward.  He 
was  master  there,  and  this  thought  gave  him  great  satis 
faction  in  the  midst  of  his  anger  at  the  way  in  which  he  had 
been  served  by  the  members  of  the  Lyceum.  For  while 
to  men  generally  there  comes  the  consoling  thought,  in  the 
midst  of  their  worldly  rebuffs  and  disappointments,  that 
at  home  there  are  those  who  love  and  prize  them,  to  this 
man  there  was  a  much  sweeter  delight  in  feeling  that  at 
his  home  were  those  who  dared  not  question  his  opinions 
or  oppose  his  will.  Why  should  they?  What  was 


40  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

woman's  judgment  compared  with  a  man's  knowledge? 
her  disconnected  and  fanciful  ideas,  contrasted  with  his 
clear  and  comprehensive  opinions  which  stood  the  test  of 
logic  and  experience  as  well  ?  AVhen  opposite  the  Qreen 
Tree,  the  thought  suddenly  came  to  him  that  a  whiskey- 
toddy  would  settle  his  nerves  and  tone  down  his  feelings. 
Other  men  drink  for  the  excitement  it  produces.  His  na 
ture  was  in  noble  contrast  to  the  common  herd;  he  drank 
for  the  calmness  it  brought  to  him.  Reining  in  his  horse 
so  suddenly  that  he  almost  pitched  himself  over  the  dasher, 
he  gave  the  beast  a  sharp  cut  for  her  promptness,  and  then 
alighted.  Hitching  the  animal  with  a  rope  he  took  from 
beneath  the  seat — he  despised  straps — he  turned  and  entered 
the  tavern. 

Dibbs  was  still  alone,  curled  up  in  his  chair  behind  the 
bar,  and  as  usual  indulging  in  one  of  his  numerous  cat 
naps,  which  the  entrance  of  the  man  did  not  disturb. 
Certainly,  if  the  innocence  of  Dibbs'  heart  could  be  judged 
by  the  soundness  of  his  sleep,  he  was  as  innocent  as  a 
babe. 

"  Wake  uj) !  wake  up  there,  you  lazy  lubber !"  shouted 
Gagger,  walking  over  to  the  bar  and  giving  it  a  ringing 
blow  in  very  close  proximity  to  where  Dibbs'  head  was 
resting. 

Dibbs  had  heard  the  first  word  the  man  spoke,  but  he 
was  so  used  to  being  awakened  by  the  loud  calls  of  cus 
tomers  that  he  was  not  startled  by  the  sound  into  any 
sudden  movement.  In  fact,  though  wide  awake,  he  did 
not  move  at  all,  neither  did  he  open  his  eyes;  for  in  this 
case,  having  recognized  the  voice,  he  instantly  determined 
to  make  it  no  easy  task  for  this  one  to  wake  him.  He 
hated  the  man  so  much  that  even  this  small  way  of 
annoying  him  was  a  great  pleasure  to  Dibbs,  who  would 
rather  play  a  joke  than  eat  his  dinner.  But  when  Silas 
Gagger's  hand  came  down  with  such  a  rousing  smack  so 
near  his  ears,  Dibbs  changed  his  tactics.  He  flung  out  his 
arm  quickly, as  he  sprang  with  a  frightened  air  to  his  feet; 
and  strange  to  say  the  arm  struck  the  large  earthen  pitcher 
on  the  bar  such  a  well-directed  blow  that  it  was  overturned, 
and  its  ice-cold  contents  deluged  the  old  man  from  his  waist 
to  his  feet,  saturating  his  clothes  to  the  skin,  while  the 


TOUCHING  A   TENDER  SPOT.  41 

pitcher  itself  broke  into  fragments  upon  his  most  tender 
bunion. 

"  Fool !"  roared  Gagger,  dancing  around  on  one  foot, 
and  shivering  with  this  bath  of  ice- water.  "  See  what 
you  have  done !  I  have  a  good  mind  to  thrash  you !" 
shaking  a  formidable-looking  horse-whip  at  him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !  Indeed,  Mr.  Gagger,  you  must 
excuse  me,"  said  Dibbs,  catching  up  a  towel  and  proceed 
ing  to  rub  down  the  old  man  very  much  as  if  he  had 
been  a  horse.  "  It  was  an  accident,  I  assure  you.  You 
scared  the  wits  out  of  me,  striking  the  counter  that  way, 
so  close  to  my  ears.  But  just  be  quiet  a  minute ;  you  will 
soon  be  dry."  Dibbs  went  on  rubbing  him  down,  lay 
ing  on  his  towel  witli  such  innocent  vigor  that  the  old 
man*  cried  out,  giving  him  a  push  that  sent  his  head 
with  a  loud  bump  against  the  bar,  "  Get  out,  you  born 
idiot !  Don't  you  see  you  are  rubbing  the  skin  off  my 
legs  ?" 

Dibbs  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  muttering  something 
about  doing  the  best  he  could,  and  with  an  apparently 
crestfallen  air,  went  behind  the  bar.  Here  he  stood,  with 
a  capitally  drawn  face,  silently  watching  his  companion, 
who  had  placed  himself  in  front  of  the  stove  to  complete 
the  drying  and  stop  his  shivering.  But  while  Dibbs 
stood  there  looking  so  demure,  his  brain  was  very  busy 
plotting  further  mischief,  for  which  the  present  opportu 
nity  was  so  favorable.  He  knew  Silas  Gagger  was  very 
jealous  of  his  wife,  and  Dibbs  was  now  chuckling  over 
the  rare  chance  to  fun  that  jealousy  into  a  violent  flame 
by  relating,  in  as  suspicious  a  way  as  possible,  the  conver 
sation  which  had  taken  place  that  evening  between  him 
self  and  the  mysterious  stranger.  Not  that  Dibbs  had 
the  slightest  idea  the  stranger  was  in  any  way  related  to 
or  concerned  with  any  of  the  inmates  of  the  Gagger  farm 
house. 

He  only  saw  in  the  whole  affair  a  rare  opportunity  to 
make  this  man  here  red-hot  with  jealousy,  as  he  mentally 
expressed  the  result.  And  now  he  was  ready  to  distill 
the  poison,  and  he  did  it  in  this  way  : 

"  Mr.  Gagger,"  he  said,  "  you  had  better  let  me  mix 
you  a  hot  drink,  as  I  did  for  a  strange  gentleman  about 

4* 


42  AS  IT  MAY  JLU'J'J-X. 

an  hour  ago.     If  it  warms  you  up  as  it  did  him,  you  \vill 
be  very  soon  dry  inside  and  out." 

"You  tend  to  your  business,  and  I  will  tend  to  mine," 
was  the  gruff  answer,  the  old  man  holding  his  wet  clothes 
closer  to  the  stove,  until  a  little  cloud  of  steam  rose  from 
them,  and  the  intense  heat  began  to  blister  his  shivering 
shanks.  "A  pretty  mess  you  have  made  of  it!"  he 
roared,  jumping  about  and  holding  out  his  hot  trowsers 
as  far  as  they  would  stretch.  "  First  you  froze  me, 
now  you  want  to  parboil  me.  Dibbs,"  cursing  him 
roundly,  "you  arc  a  born  fool!" 

"  Well,  1  am  not  to  blame  for  that,"  said  Dibbs,  with 
an  apologetic  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "There  are  more 
fools  born  than  wise  men,  so  the  chances  were  in  my 
favor,  yet  in  wise  men  we  often  find  more  folly  than  wis 
dom.  But  grant  that  I  am  a  fool,  I  was  wise  enough 
to  form  an  opinion  of  the  mysterious  fellow  who  was 
here  a  little  while  ago.  By  the  way,"  went  on  Dibbs, 
approaching  him  very  confidentially,  and  looking  suspi 
ciously  about  the  room,  while  he  whispered  ominously  in 
the  old  man's  ear,  "you  didn't  see  anything  of  him  over 
at  the  Lyceum,  did  you — a  tall  man,  with  a  black  beard, 
and  a  long  coat,  and  a  felt  hat,  and  eyes  small  like  yours, 
only  they  were  black  ?" 

"Xo,  "I  didn't;  but  why  do  you  ask?  What's  the 
man  to  me?"  Then,  as  he  caught  the  peculiar  expression 
of  the  other's  face,  he  asked,  with  a  sudden  show  of  inter 
est  :  "What  are  you  concealing,  boy?  "Who  was  the 
man?  Do  I  know  him?" 

"  Xo,"  replied  Dibbs,  his  mysterious  manner  deepening, 
"you  don't  know  him,  but  he  appeared  to  know  you,  and 
I  guess,"  with  provoking  emphasis,  and  laying  his  fore 
finger  significantly  on  the  side  of  his  nose,  while  his  left 
eye  disappeared  in  a  knowing  wink,  "he  knows  more 
about  the  ladies  up  at  your  house — " 

The  old  man  sprang  at  him  with  an  oath,  caught  him 
by  the  collar  with  a  savage  grip,  and,  raising  his  whip, 
brought  it  with  a  vigorous  blow  down  upon  Dibbs' 
shoulders. 

"How  dare  you,  you  scoundrel,  talk  and  look  that  way 
about  my  wife!"  thundered  Gagger,  shaking  him  and 


TOUCHING  A    TENDER  SPOT.  43 

rapidly  plying  the  whip,  while  Dibbs  vainly  endeavor 
ed  to  dodge  the  blows  and  wriggle  out  of  his  iron  grasp. 

At  last  he  was  successful,  and  he  jumped  for  refuge 
behind  the  bar,  where  he  caught  up  a  bottle  and  stood 
on  the  defensive. 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  thrash  you  again,"  said  Gagger, 
puffing  with  his  recent  exertions,  and  shaking  the  whip 
at  him. 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Dibbs,  in  a  doleful  voice,  as  he  put 
the  bottle  down  and  began  to  rub  his  shoulders  with  every 
evidence  of  great  pain,  "this  is  always  the  thanks  a  fellow 
gets  for  trying  to  do  a  fellow-man  a  good  turn.  Take  me 
for  a  noodle  if  I  don't  keep  my  own  secrets  after  this. 
Mysterious  fellows,  thick  as  blackberries,  may  come  around 
SlowVille,  and  I  will  hold  my  tongue,  no  matter  if  I  do 
find  out  there  is  something  wrong  about  them." 

The  old  man,  his  passion  having  somewhat  subsided, 
had  been  striding  up  and  down  the  room  during  this 
soliloquy  of  Dibbs.  He  was  not  listening  to  a  word  of 
it,  but  was  now  debating  with  himself  whether,  perhaps, 
there  was  not  some  mystery  here  it  was  worth  his  while 
to  fathom.  A  strange  man  in  Slowville,  who  knew,  or 
pretended  to  know,  all  about  him  and  his  family  !  Who 
could  he  be  ?  He  had  no  living  relatives  except  a  nephew, 
who  was  well  known  in  Slowville.  His  wife  had  none 
beyond  her  son,  nor  had  Aziel  Loyd,  their  servant — at 
least,  not  to  his  knowledge.  These  and  kindred  thoughts, 
which  coursed  rapidly  through  his  brain,  roused  Silas  Gag- 
ger's  curiosity,  which  as  quickly  changed  into  suspicion, 
and  then  leaped  into  jealousy  with  this  sudden  thought — 
suppose  this  man  were  some  old  lover  of  his  wife ! 

He  broke  off  in  this  train  of  thought,  suddenly  turned 
to  Dibbs,  and  asked :  "  Did  this  man  say  where  he  was 
going  when  he  left  you?" 

"  Yes ;  but  he  went  to  neither  place.  You  did  not  see 
him  at  the  Lyceum,  and  Jack,  the  clerk  at  Grimes',  was 
in  here  just  before  you  came,  and  said  he  had  not  been  at 
the  store.  And  he  told  me  he  was  going  to  both  places." 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  he  did  go?"  asked  the  old  man, 
after  a  long  pause,  during  which  Dibbs  was  executing  a 
lively  whistle. 


44  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN: 

"  That's  for  you  to  find  out,  not  I,"  rejoined  Dibbs,  re 
suming  his  tune,  and  then  dryly  remarking:  "I  have  my 
suspicions  and  you  have  your  whip,  and  the  one  may  be  as 
bad  as  the  other.  But  if  you  keep  your  eyes  open  on  the 
way  home,  you  may  see  him." 

"  Dibbs !" 

The  old  man  turned  on  him  threateningly,  but  as  quickly 
recovered  himself,  as  he  saw  the  innocent  look  on  the  young 
man's  face.  Then,  without  another  word,  he  buttoned  up 
his  coat,  grasped  his  whip  firmly  in  his  hand,  and  mutter 
ing  vengeance,  hurried  out  of  the  house. 

A  second  later,  Dibbs  laughed  with  glee  as  he  heard  the 
dilapidated  old  chaise  dash  madly  down  the  street. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY. 

TY7HETHER  it  were  the  clearer  atmosphere  which 
V  V  had  come  with  the  departure  of  the  man,  or  the  loud 
calls  and  vigorous  shaking  of  Aziel,  or  the  sound  of  wheels 
clattering  up  the  hill,  that  startled  the  life-currents  into 
sudden  activity,  the  woman  came  back  to  consciousness 
very  fast.  She  raised  her  head,  flung  out  her  hands  with 
a  quick  gesture,  as  if  warding  off  something,  opened  her 
eyes  as  widely  as  if  she  had  just  come  out  of  a  hideous 
nightmare,  and  then  as  rapidly  turned  her  questioning  and 
still  white  face  on  her  companion. 

"Has  he  gone?"  she  asked,  casting  a  shivering,  scared 
look  about  the  room;  then,  as  she  caught  the  sound  of 
carriage-wheels,  which  were  almost  at  the  door,  she  ex 
claimed,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  a?  she  sank  back  in  her  chair, 
"  Hark  !  there  comes  the  other.  What  if  they  have  met? 
AVlmt  shall  we  do?" 

The  vehicle  rattled  past  the  door,  and  went  on  toward 
the  barn.  There  was  still  time  left  to  adopt  some  plan 
that  would  deceive  the  man  so  soon  to  appear,  if  deceived 
he  could  be.  Aziel  was  the  first  to  devise  that  plan,  and 
she  put  it  into  instant  execution.  She,  who,  but  a  few  mo- 


THE  SPIDER  AND   THE  FLY.  45 

ments  ago,  had  been  cowering  with  abject  fear  in  the  pres 
ence  of  Seth  Slade,  was  now  strangely  confident  and  self- 
possessed. 

"  Go  to  your  room  ;  keep  a  stout  heart,  and  leave  me  to 
manage  him,"  she  said,  with  the  air  of  one  fully  able  to 
cope  with  the  situation.  "  I  will  make  a  good  excuse  for 
your  absence,  and  find  out  all  he  knows." 

"  But  suppose  he  saw  him  leaving  the  house  ?  He  has 
only  been  gone  a  few  moments." 

"  Seth  Slade  is  not  the  man  to  let  any  one  that  he  chooses 
to  hide  from  see  him,"  replied  Aziel,  with  a  reassuring 
shake  of  her  head.  "  And  even  if  he  was  seen,  has  not 
my  brother  a  right  to  come  and  see  me  ? — my  brother  who 
has  just  returned  from  California?" 

"  Y'bur  brother?  I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  other, 
with  a  puzzled  look,  as  if  the  words  just  spoken  might 
have  been  in  earnest  or  jest,  she  knew  not  which. 

"Of  course  you  do  not  understand  just  now,  you  poor 
dear !"  putting  her  arm  around  her,  and  helping  her  to 
her  feet.  "  But  come  !  go  to  your  room,  and  calm  your 
self.  You  will  be  strong  again  in  a  little  while.  In  the 
mean  time,  I  will  take  good  care  that,  if  he  has  seen  the 
man,  he  will  trouble  you  with  no  questions  you  cannot 
answer.  I  will  take  care  that  you  know  all  that  has  passed 
between  us  before  he  comes  to  bed.  But  remember  that 
the  man  who  came  here  to-night,  if  he  has  been  seen  leav 
ing  this  house,  is  my  brother.  There,  now  !  don't  stop 
to  argue  with  me !"  gently  urging  her  toward  the  door. 
"  There  is  little  time  left  me  to  get  ready  for  him." 

The  woman,  with  a  grateful  glance,  pressed  the  other's 
hand,  and  went  slowly  up  the  stairs,  trembling  with  the 
faint  hope  that  what  had  happened  this  night  might  yet 
be  concealed.  And  if  concealed  to-night,  why  not  for  ever 
hidden?  It  was  not  impossible.  There  must  be  some 
way  in  which  it  could  be  done. 

Her  heart  beat  a  trifle  more  freely  at  this  thought.  And 
as  it  fast  took  on  a  more  defined  form  of  certainty,  she  felt 
herself  growing  stronger  in  body,  less  fearful  in  heart.  She 
stopped  on  the  landing,  her  step  a  firm  one  now.  She  would 
listen  to  what  might  transpire  below.  She  was  no  longer 
afraid.  She  dared  to  hear  all.  Looking  down,  she  saw, 


46  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

by  the  long,  dim  streak  of  light,  that  the  door  was  ajar, 
and  she  heard  A/iel  singing  and  hustling  about  the  room, 
busying  herself,  as  if  in  all  the  world  there  were  no  hap 
pier  maid-of-all-work.  Yet,  notwithstanding  her  apparent 
hilarious  activity,  she  was  doing  nothing  that  was  not  sug 
gested  by  her  mean  opinion  of  her  master — his  closeness 
and  his  cunning.  She  would  be  more  than  a  match  for 
him  to-night,  she  thought,  a  wary  smile  on  her  face,  as 
she  passed  to  and  fro  from  kitchen  to  sitting-room,  her 
hands  and  feet  no  more  active  than  her  scheming  brain, 
training  ready  answers  for  suspicion's  closest  questions. 

All  was  at  last  ready  for  his  coming.  A  small  fire  was 
on  the  hearth.  Two  sticks  alone  sent  up  their  economical 
blaze,  while  the  large  pile  of  ashes  made  during  the  gen 
erous  combustion  of  the  evening  had  disappeared,  through 
A /id's  agency,  into  the  wood-shed.  He  was  so  saving  of 
wood,  >hc  would  spare  him  the  sad  sight  of  so  much  ashes. 
Thoughtful  Aziel!  On  the  little  table,  beside  which  she 
now  sat  with  her  knitting  in  her  hand,  were  preparations 
just  as  thoughtful — perhaps  as  innocent — as  the  hiding  of 
the  ashes.  There  were  the  bottle  and  the  big  tumbler,  with 
its  ample  spoon,  and  the  lemon  and  the  sugar,  and  on  the 
crane  swung  the  kettle,  giving  out  its  gentle  breath  of 
steam.  Here  was  placed  his  large  arm-chair,  with  its 
generous  seat,  its  high  back,  and  long  arms,  where  one's 
elbows  could  rest  with  ease  and  safety.  Over  it  was 
Hung  his  thick  woolen  wrapper,  while  on  the  floor,  in  front, 
were  his  slippers,  inviting  to  ease.  Surely  if  he  could 
be  won  by  thoughtful  ness  of  his  comfort,  these  prepara 
tions  ought  to  have  made  him  pleasant  to  this  one  sit 
ting  here,  upon  whose  anxious  ears  now  fell  his  sturdv 
footsteps. 

Another  moment  and  she  should  be  in  his  presence  ! 
She  nerved  herself  for  the  encounter  which  she  felt  would 
prove  her  courage  and  her  shrewdness,  and,  with  a  stony 
calmness  on  her  features,  she  faced  the  door.  An  instant 
later,  a  wringing  grasp,  as  if  some  grudge  was  owed  it, 
rattled  the  brass  knob.  The  door  was  pushed  violently 
open  with  a  bang  that  threatened  its  hinges  as  it  crashed 
against  the  wall.  Then  the  man  came  in,  flinging  the 
door  back  again  with  a  force  that  shook  the  house  like  the 


THE  SPIDER  AND   THE  FLY.  47 

blow  of  a  giant,  and  brought  down  a  piece  of  plaster 
from  the  broken  ceiling.  It  fell  at  his  feet.  He  kick 
ed  it  aside,  scattering  the  remnants  over  the  floor,  and 
advanced  farther  into  the  room.  Now  halting,  he  stood 
glaring  at  the  woman,  who  had  risen  to  force  a  hearty 
welcome  to  her  lips.  But  she  quailed  beneath  the  fierce 
ness  of  his  look.  What  had  he  seen  ?  What  did  he 
know  ? 

A  strange  and  grotesque  figure  he  was,  standing  there, 
his  tall  and  angular  form  trembling  with  some  pent-up 
passion.  A  long  brownish-white  beard  straggled  down 
over  his  coat,  while  his  coat,  buttoned  up,  with  its  very 
short  waist  and  very  long  skirt,  straggled  down  his  legs, 
to  meet  the  bottom  of  his  pants,  which  had  straggled  up 
from  IIK  shoe-tops.  An  old  white  hat,  with  a  napless  fur 
and  broad  brim,  was  thrust  far  upon  his  head,  from  which 
streamed  ample  locks  of  hair,  like  the  beard  both  in  color 
and  length,  for  it  fell  full  down  on  his  shoulders.  Nothing 
of  his  face  was  visible,  save  a  faint  line  of  his  forehead 
beneath  which  jutted  two  heavy  brows.  These  bristled 
above  eyes  that  were  very  small,  yet  piercing  as  two  con 
centrated  rays  of  light.  A  long,  thin  nose,  projecting 
cheek  bones,  and  temples  slightly  sunken,  completed  his 
visible  features.  So  unamiable  were  they  all  that  no 
one  would  care  to  know  what  further  unprepossessing 
ones  lay  hidden  beneath  his  beard. 

"What  are  you  staring  at  me  for?"  he  demanded. 
"  Where's  your  mistress  ?  Who  told  her  she  might  go 
to  bed  before  I  came  home?" 

"  She  had  a  very  bad  headache,  and  could  not  sit  up 
any  longer.  But  see,  Mr.  Gagger,"  pointing  to  the  chair 
and  table,  "  I  have  got  everything  ready  for  you.  I 
thought  I  would  give  you  a  little  surprise  to-night,  and 
have  things  at  your  hand  before  you  asked  for  them. 
Here  are  the  materials  for  the  punch,  and  here  are — " 

"  To  the  devil  with  your  punch !  Who  told  you  I 
wanted  punch  to-night?" 

"  I  thought  you  would  drink  it  to-night  the  same  as 
any  other  night,"  she  answered,  very  quietly,  deter 
mined  not  to  be  thrown  off  her  guard,  lest  she  should 
fail  in  the  weightier  questions  yet  to  come. 


48  AS  IT  .MAY  HAPPEN. 

"Well,  you  thought  wrong,"  he  rejoined,  with  a  sneer, 
hanging  up  his  outer  coat  and  hat  as  carefully  as  if  they 
were  just  new  and  of  the  latest  fashion.  "Look  here, 
A/.iel,"  he  continued,  turning  to  her  again,  "I  want  you 
to  understand  I  am  master  in  this  house,  and  I  won't  take 
anybody's  suggestions.  When  I  want  punch,  I  will  say 
so,  and  until  I  say  I.  want  it  don't  you  dare  to  again  sug 
gest  it." 

"I  am  sure  I  meant  no  disrespect.  The  things  can  be 
easily  put  away,"  and  she  prepared  to  gather  them  up. 

"  Let  them  alone  !  Who  told  you  to  put  them  away  ".' 
See  here,"  tossing  the  wrapper  on  the  floor,  kicking  the 
slippers  across  the  room,  and  slowly  seating  himself,  "sit 
down  in  that  chair,  and  look  me  full  in  the  face.  I  am 
going  to  ask  you  a  question,  and  mind  you  answer  it 
truthfully.  Who  was  that  man  I  saw  skulking  out  of 
our  lane  as  I  came  driving  home?  I  called  to  him  and 
he  ran.  Had  I  had  a  pistol,  I  warrant  you  he  would  have 
stopped  in  a  hurry." 

"  Why,"  bringing  her  hands  together  with  a  little  gush 
of  joy,  "that  was  my  brother!  .1  was  going  to  tell  you 
all  about  him,  but  you  were  so  angry  at  my  getting  your 
punch  ready  that  you  gave  me  no  chance — " 

"Stop  lying,  and  speak  the  truth,  even  if  you  are  a 
woman!"  he  interrupted,  putting  out  his  hand  with  an 
impatient  gesture  of  disgust.  "  That  man  was  not  your 
brother.  His  coming  here  this  time  of  night,  during  my 
absence,  and  leaving  just  before  my  return,  prove  it. 
Besides,  you  alwavs  told  me  yon  had  no  relatives  living." 

"So  I  did,"  broke  in  A/iel,  covering  her  face  with  her 
apron  and  beginning  to  cry.  "He  went  to  California 
years  ago,  and  I  thought  he  was  dead.  It's  not  my  fault 
he's  alive,  and  I  can't  help  it  if  he  is  fleeing  from  the 
law,  and  has  to  come  and  see  his  sister  in  secret." 

"  Humph !  that  is  well  put ;  but  I  don't  believe  a 
word  of  it,"  bringing  down  his  palm  with  a  smart  blow 
on  the  table.  "  You  can't  deceive  me  !  Those  tears  are 
pumped  too  near  your  eyes.  Lying  and  crying  go  to 
gether  with  women  and  children." 

"  It  is  the  truth  I  am  telling  you,"  sobbed  the  woman, 
more  violently  rocking  herself  to  and  fro,  and  gathering 


THE  SPIDER  AND   THE  FLY.  49 

the  apron  in  deeper  folds  about  her  face.  "  Yon  can  ask 
your  wife.  She  heard  the  story,  how  detectives  were  on 
his  track  for  robbing  a  bank  in  San  Francisco,  when  he 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Poor  fellow,  he's  safe  now, 
thank  Heaven!  With  the  money  I  gave  him,  he  can 
put  the  ocean  between  him  and  them  before  to-morrow 
night." 

"  You  can  stop  now,"  striking  the  table  with  his 
clenched  fist.  "  You  have  lied  enough  to  blister  any 
honest  tongue !  I  am  more  certain  now  than  when  you 
began  that  the  man  is  not  your  brother.  Yet " — slowly 
changing  his  voice  to  an  indifferent  tone,  lest  it  might 
give  the  slightest  betrayal  of  the  suspicion  that  had  just 
lashed  across  his  mind  and  made  his  heart  leap  with  a 
malickms  joy — "  perhaps  I  am  too  hard  on  yon,  A/iel. 
My  suspicious  nature  got  the  better  of  me.  He  may  be 
your  brother,  after  all.  So  dry  your  eyes  and  go  to  bed, 
woman.  I  will  mix  and  drink  my  punch  alone." 

She  rose  and  turned  away  from  him,  her  apron  still 
to  her  face.  As  she  sobbed  good-night,  she  added,  going 
out  of  the  door :  "  It's  very  sad  to  have  an  outlawed 
brother,  and  very  hard  to  be  called  a  liar  because  of  it." 

When  she  had  closed  the  door,  the  old  man's  face 
lightened  with  a  gleam  that  sparkled  clear  down  in  the 
depths  of  his  cavernous  eyes.  He  brought  his  wrinkled 
and  blue-veined  hands  together,  and  rubbed  them  with 
many  a  chuckle,  as  he  put  this  and  that  together,  and  saw 
his  pleasing  suspicion  of  who  the  man  might  be  develop 
ing  itself  without  a  flaw  in  the  chain  of  circumstances. 
He  saw  it  all  now  plainly  as  the  table  before  him.  With 
this  theory,  everything  that  had  transpired  this  evening 
worked  to  a  charm.  The  man's  secret  coming ;  his 
stealthy  departure ;  his  wife's  absence  from  the  room ; 
Aziel's  unusual  provision  for  his  comfort,  and  her  story, 
told  with  such  excessive  agitation, — all  these,  he  saw,  bore 
with  marvelous  truthfulness  on  his  suspicion  of  the  stran 
ger's  identity. 

It  was  far  past  midnight  when  Silas  Gagger  went  to 
his  room.  When  he  did  so,  he  had  matured  a  plan  for 
future  action,  so  studied  in  all  its  details  that  he  had  no 
fear  of  the  result.  The  result?  He  could  hardly  restrain 


50  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

himself  from  laughing  outright,  as  he  ascended  the  stairs 
and  sought  his  couch,  in  a  room  adjoining  that  where  the 
woman  lay  for  whose  entrapping  he  had  spun  so  cunning 
a  web.  Perhaps  there  was  a  flaw  in  this  web;  for  webs, 
as  spiders  know,  often  break  where  least  expected. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HISTOR  Y  iy  PERSPECTIVE. 

WHEN  the  retreating  footsteps  of  the  young  man 
could  be  no  longer  heard,  the  storm  of  wrath  and 
menace  that  had  been  hurtling  over  the  features  of  Nich 
olas  Grundle  began  slowly  to  pass  away;  but  there  still 
remained  upon  his  fare  the  traces  of  his  angry  outburst. 
Storm  and  passion  alike  leave  behind  them  evidences  of 
their  violence,  which  neither  the  succeeding  sunshine  nor 
smile  can  immediately  dispel  or  conceal.  He  had  lowered 
his  gun  to  the  floor,  and  now  stood  leaning  upon  it,  his 
form  trembling  with  his  subsiding  passion;  his  eyes  were 
fixed  witli  a  varying  expression  upon  the  girl — an  expres 
sion  that  \vas  now  angry,  now  contemptuous,  and  now  a 
trifle  pitiful.  But  he  said  nothing,  watching  her  in 
silence.  He  only  shook  his  head,  with  the  varying 
emotions  of  each  successive  mood  in  which  he  was  re 
garding  her. 

The  girl  still  knelt  beside  the  door,  where  she  had  sunk 
down  in  her  .terror,  overcome  with  the  awful  thought  of 
the  deadly  peril  from  which  her  lover  had  jn>t  escaped. 
Her  little  hands  were  clasped  in  front  of  her;  her  head 
hud  fallen  upon  her  breast.  The  loosened  folds  of  her 
abundant  hair  spread  themselves  over  her  slight  form, 
like  an  airy  mantle  of  golden  gossamer,  hiding  her  white 
face  in  its  creamy  folds.  She,  too,  was  silent.  Beyond 
the  quivering  of  her  lips  and  a  slight  trembling  of  her 
form  with  fear,  dreading  from  her  father,  what,  she  could 
not  tell,  she  knelt  there  like  a  statue  in  the  act  of  prayer. 
From  her  downi.-a.-t  eves — she  dared  not  raise  them  to  his 


HISTORY  IN  PERSPECTIVE.  61 

face — there  stole  quiet  tears  which  dropped  as  gently  on 
her  bosom. 

The  attitude  of  suppliance  and  of  fear  seemed  at  last 
to  change  the  current  of  his  thoughts.  He  laid  aside  his 
weapon,  went  over  to  her,  and  patting  her  on  the  head, 
said,  in  a  tone  as  kindly  as  he  had  ever  spoken  to  her : 
"  There,  there,  child !  It  is  all  over;  I  am  not  angry  with 
you  now." 

As  his  hand  rested  on  her  head,  he  felt  her  draw  slight 
ly  away  from  his  touch,  and  when  she  looked  up  at  him 
in  obedience  to  his  command,  he  saw,  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  that  her  gaze  shrank  away  from  him.  There  was 
a  drooping  fear  in  her  eyes  such  as  he  had  never  seen  be 
fore.  Until  now  those  eyes  had  always  met  his  with 
childisW  trustfulness  and  love.  For  an  instant  a  shade 
of  vexation,  not  unmingled  with  disappointment,  passed 
across  his  face,  but  as  suddenly  it  disappeared  in  the  kind 
ly  smile  he  bent  upon  her.  He  stooped  down  and  began 
to  caress  her  hair  and  cheeks  with  a  sudden  eagerness  of 
affection,  murmuring  the  words  of  fondness  and  endear 
ment  that  had  so  often  been  her  delight  in  all  these  years 
they  had  been  together.  She  reached  out  her  hands,  and 
taking  his  in  her  two  palms,  she  pressed  it  with  a  fond 
ling  motion  to  her  lips,  and  as  she  kissed  it,  a  little  gush 
of  tears,  in  a  baptism  of  reconciliation  •  and  forgiveness, 
fell  upon  it. 

"  Come,  child,"  he  said,  his  voice  a  trifle  husky,  for  this 
one  here  had  always  power  to  stir  his  better  emotions,  and 
never  so  much  as  now — "  come,  tears  were  not  made  for 
your  eyes.  So  drive  them  away  and  come  and  sit  by  me 
in  yonder  chair.  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  this 
night — ay,  and  to  show  you,  too — that  will  make  you 
happy,  child,  and  prove  to  you  how  much  your  poor  old 
father  has  loved  you,  and  loves  you  still." 

Never  did  child  more  eagerly  seize  upon  a  parent's 
promise.  With  a  little  cry  of  joy,  she  rose  to  her  feet 
as  he  was  speaking,  and  before  he  had  finished,  her  arms 
were  about  his  neck,  and  she  exclaiming,  in  an  exuber 
ance  of  joy  as  sudden  as  a  burst  of  sunshine  from  a 
cloudless  sky : 

"  Oh,  will  you  tell  me,  father — will  you  tell  me  to- 


52  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

night  ?  Oh,  how  I  have  longed  to  hear  you  promise 
this!  I  shall  know  all  to-night?"  looking  up  into  his 
face,  with  her  eyes  sparkling  through  the  tears  that  still 
trembled  on  her  la.shes  ;  and  then  drawing  nearer  to  him, 
until  her  head  rested  on  his  breast,  she  continued,  a  deeper 
yearning  in  her  face  and  a  tremor  in  her  voice :  "  You 
Avill  tell  me  now  of  mother?  Oh,  I  do  so  want  to  hear 
about  her  !  You  will  tell  me  how  she  looked,  and  what 
she  did?  and  how  much  she  loved  me  when  I  was  a 
baby?  and  what  she  said?" 

His  countenance  grew  graver  as  she  hurried  on  with 
these  questions,  as  if  she  were  touching  on  a  forbidden 
topic;  but  he  brushed  away  the  frown  with  a  quick  ges 
ture  of  his  hand,  and  silently  led  her  to  her  stool  beside 
his  chair.  Then,  as  he  slowly  dropped  into  his  seat,  she 
placed  herself  close  to  his  side.  Her  hands  were  now 
folded  in  a  soft  caress  upon  his  knee,  while  her  eyes,  full 
of  love,  hope  and  curiosity,  looked  upward  at  him  out  of 
their  innocent  depths  of  childish  trust. 

"  Put  more  wood  on  the  fire,"  he  said,  abruptly,  after 
several  moments  of  silent  gazing  into  her  face,  and  read 
ing  there  the  expectancy  of  a  revelation  which  he  had  no 
idea  of  making.  Then,  with  a  sudden  show  of  gaycly, 
he  added,  laughing  in  his  shrill,  broken  voice,  and  clap 
ping  and  rubbing  his  hands  :  "  We  must  have  the  room 
bright  to-night.  Yes,  it  must  be  bright  and  warm  to 
night  for  my  dear  child  and  her  doting  old  father." 

She  caught  the  infection  of  his  gleeful  manner,  and, 
with  a  merry  laugh,  threw  handful  after  handful  of  brush 
wood  into  the  chimney-place.  The  fire,  too,  soon  became 
merry.  It  crackled  and  snapped,  and  shot  out  its  broad 
ening  flames,  until  on  the  round  faces  of  the  old  andirons 
there  seemed  to  come  a  smile  of  amazement  at  the  gen 
erous  heat  about  them.  And,  indeed,  such  a  fire  as  this 
had  never  before  blazed  on  Nicholas  Grundle's  hearth. 

"Throw  on  some  heavy  sticks  now,"  he  cried,  his  mer 
riment  increasing.  "  Ha,  ha  !  it's  a  glorious  bright  fire. 
We  must  make  it  last  while  we  talk  here  together.  There, 
that  will  do  !"  as  she  flung  on  several  larger  pieces  of  wood, 
which  for  an  instant  deadened  the  flames,  sending  up  a 
column  of  brown  smoke,  that  was  reflected,  as  it  were,  in 


HISTORY  IN  PERSPECTIVE.  53 

the  sombre  look  which  now  had  come  to  his  face.  For,  a 
man  of  sudden  and  curious  moods,  he  was  ever  changing 
them  when  least  expected.  She  resumed  her  seat  by  him, 
and  they  now  sat  watching  the  fire — she  waiting  for  him 
to  speak,  and  he  hesitating  to  begin,  so  much  he  knew  de 
pended  now  upon  the  manner  of  his  telling. 

"  Emily,"  he  said,  at  last,  a  tender  seriousness  in  his 
voice,  as  he  took  her  hand  in  one  of  his  and  laid  the  other 
fondly  upon  her  head,  turning  her  face  gently  toward  him, 
"  how  much  do  you  love  me  ?" 

"  More  than  words  can  tell,  father  dear,"  she  answered, 
with  a  quick  and  affectionate  response,  as  earnest  and  sym 
pathetic  in  her  look  as  if  indeed  she  had  been  but  a  child  at 
his  knee,  wondering  why  he  had  asked  that  which  he 
knew  So  much  better  than  she  could  tell  him. 

"  You  ought  to  love  me  very  much,"  he  said,  gently, 
putting  aside  her  hair  and  gazing  down  into  her  face  with 
an  expression  that  absorbed  his  every  feature  in  its  pas 
sionate  yearning.  "  For  sixteen  years,  my  child,  I  have 
lived  only  for  you.  From  the  very  day  you  were  born, 
you  became  a  part  of  myself.  Your  life  was  mine,  mine 
was  yours.  As  well  might  they  have  asked  me  to  tear  my 
own  heart  out  and  live  as  to  be  happy  away  from  you. 
Yes,  yes  !  they  thought  it  foolish  in  an  old  man  like  me 
to  be  so  wrapped  up  in  a  child.  But  I  kept  on  loving 
you,  despite  them  all.  And  what  pleasure  it  has  been  to 
me,  all  these  years,  to  watch  over  you,  guide  you,  teach 
you,  and  plan  for  you  !  But  the  time  has  passed  too 
quickly,"  he  sighed — "  yes,  too  quickly  !  You  have 
grown  too  fast — too  fast  of  late,  my  child  !" 

Here  his  hand  dropped  away  from  her  head,  and  he  fell 
into  a  sudden  fit  of  musing,  a  sad  look  mellowing  his 
wrinkled  face,  a  far-off  expression  in  his  eyes,  as  they 
wandered  about  the  room  and  finally  rested  upon  the  fire, 
while  his  lips  murmured  .something  she  could  not  hear. 
She  did  not  break  in  upon  his  meditations,  though  she 
longed  to  ask  him  so  many  questions — questions  which 
had  come  to  her  night  after  night  when  she  was  alone  in 
her  little  room,  watching  the  stars,  that  gave  her  no  an 
swer,  though  she  sought  it  with  tears,  gazing  up  at  them 
with  wistful  longing.  Oh,  if  they  would  only  tell  her 

5  * 


54  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

what  was  beyond — whether  in  that  bright  world  to  which 
thcv  led  the  way  her  mother  was  watching  and  waiting 
for  her !  Oh,  cruel  stars !  ever  pointing  the  path  to 
heaven,  yet  never  revealing  aught  of  its  mystery  or  joy. 

The  girl  quietly  laid  her  head  upon  his  knee,  for  he 
was  still  silent,  and  gazed  with  him  into  the  bright  flames, 
that  seemed  to  beckon  them  back  to  happier  thoughts. 
But  though  ruddier  grew  the  lire,  it  had  no  cheering 
influence  for  them.  He  was  looking  forward,  and  she 
backward — she  through  the  years  that  had  gone,  he 
through  those  to  come.  Youth  and  age  had  this  night 
exchanged  with  each  other  the  future  for  the  past,  and 
memory  and  hope  alike  were  tinged  with  sadness.  And 
she  remembered — what  ?  How  strange  it  seemed  to  her 
that  her  memory  should  always  start  from  the  self-same 
point,  behind  which  no  effort  of  her  mind  could  go ! 
Strive  ever  so  hard,  she  could  begin  her  life  only  with 
the  dimmest  recollection  of  a  face  she  believed,  she  knew 
not  why,  must  have  been  her  mother's.  Where  and 
when  the  face  had  bent  over  her  she  could  not  tell.  But 
it  was  a  face  she  had  never  seen  again  since  that  time  it 
had  disappeared,  just  how  or  when  she  could  not  recall, 
out  of  that  past  which  floated,  a  half-defined  vision,  in 
her  memories  of  childhood.  But  this  face,  invested  as  the 
years  had  passed  with  an  ever-increasing  halo  of  love  and 
tenderness,  had  been  and  was  the  dearest  treasure  of  her 
heart.  She  sank  to  sleep  under  its  soft  glances,  and 
waking  saw  it  beaming  over  her.  And  often  in  the 
day  it  was  the  sweet  companion  of  her  thoughts.  Even 
now,  as  she  looked  at  yonder  fire,  this  face  seemed  to 
come  out  from  the  very  flames  and  float  upward,  with  its 
sweet  smile,  its  yearning  look  and  loving  glance. 

So  it  was  of  her  mother's  face  that  Emily  thought,  and 
in  the  absorbing  contemplation  of  that  dear  countenance 
all  else  of  her  life  was  forgotten.  With  this  vision  so 
clear  before  her,  she  cared  to  recall  no  other  memory  of 
her  strange  life — a  life  which  the  briefest  retrospect  would 
have  told  her  had  been  passed  solely  with  this  old  man 
and  the  woman  who  now  rested  in  the  grass  so  near  them 
— a  life  in  which  there  had  been  no  pleasure  so  great  as 
this  dim  yet  precious  memory  of  a  mother's  face. 


HIS  TOE  Y  IN  PERSPECTIVE.  55 

Nicholas  Grundle  was  now  reviewing  her  life  and  his 
under  a  far  different  aspect.  To  him  thus  far  it  had  been 
a  very  happy,  a  very  successful  life.  All  that  he  had 
started  out  to  accomplish  had  been  brought  to  pass.  He 
had  reared  the  child  separate  and  apart  from  the  world, 
keeping  her  mind  innocent  of  its  follies  and  its  vices. 
Besides  himself,  she  had  held  converse  in  all  these  years 
with  only  one  person,  the  housekeeper.  He  had  educated 
her  according  to  his  own  ideas  of  what  she  ought  to 
know ;  taught  her  himself  to  read  and  write,  and  under 
his  own  ceaseless  attention  she  had  mastered  grammar, 
arithmetic  and  geography,  three  branches  of  learning 
upon  which  he  laid  the  greatest  stress,  and  of  which,  he 
often  told  her  when  her  interest  flagged,  the  world  was 
woefully  ignorant. 

Nor  had  he  omitted  to  embellish  her  mind  with  history 
and  science.  Hour  after  hour  he  would  read  to  her  a 
careful  selection  of  historical  subjects,  ancient  and  modern, 
always  omitting  anytlyng  that  might  suggest  the  passions 
and  vices  of  mankind,  or  taint  her  thoughts  with  the 
slightest  impurity.  In  the  daytime,  while  in  the  garden, 
he  taught  her  the  sweet  mysteries  of  flower  and  vegetable 
life,  or  the  more  hidden  secrets  of  the  earth  itself;  and 
often  in  the  night  he  would  lead  her  to  the  door,  and 
point  out  to  her  the  grand  procession  of  the  stars,  their 
names,  their  movements  and  their  constellations.  Nor  in 
her  bringing  up  had  he  omitted  the  religious  training  of 
her  heart.  Stranger  than  all  his  strange  life  was  it  to  see 
him  reading  to  her  at  night,  before  they  retired,  some 
carefully  selected  passage  from  the  Bible  which  bore 
alike  on  heavenly  and  filial  duty. 

Nor  did  he  tire  of  the  many  questions  she  asked  as  he 
read  the  mysterious  revelations  of  the  sacred  book.  To 
one  and  all  he  made  ready  answer,  leading  her  mind  ever 
along  the  path  of  truth.  When  at  last  she  knelt  beside 
him  and  repeated  the  prayers  he  had  taught  her,  he  kissed 
her  good-night,  and  prayed  God  to  watch  over  her  pre 
cious  sleep.  Thus  had  he  brought  her  up.  To-night  came 
the  questions  to  him,  as  he  reviewed  all  his  labors  and 
anxiety,  Will  the  result  be  what  I  have  toiled  for?  Will 
these  sixteen  years  at  last  bring  forth  the  harvest  for  which 


56  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

I  have  so  patiently  and  diligently  worked  ?  Ah,  these  are 
the  questions  which  all  laborers  in  the  vineyard  of  the 
Avnrld  ask  !  And  who  shall  answer  them  for  them?  Time 
here,  eternity  hereafter. 

He  turned  to  her  now  and  spoke.  She  raised  her  face 
with  glad  expectancy,  for  surely  he  would  tell  her  now 
what  she  had  waited  in  silence  to  hear  these  many  years ; 
for  on  this  subject  of  her  mother  he  had  forbidden  her 
ever  to  speak  to  him,  and  she  had  obeyed  him,  though  at 
the  cost,  of  many  a  secret  pang  of  grief  and  yearning.  Nor 
had  the  old  housekeeper  ever  allowed  this  topic  to  pass 
her  lips.  Cold,  taciturn  and  forbidding  on  all  except  triv 
ial  subjects,  she  had  carried  this  secret  into  her  grave. 

"  Emily,"  he  said,  speaking  so  abruptly  that  it  startled 
her,  "  for  what  do  you  suppose  I  have  been  so  carefully 
training  you  all  these  years?  Why  am  I  living  with 
you  all  alone,  devoting  every  hour  to  you  ?  This  is  the 
"rirst  time,  my  child,  I  have  ever  asked  you  this  question, 
and  I  want  you  to  give  it  sufficient  deliberation  to  enable 
you  to  answer  it  carefully." 

It  was  a  new  question — one  he  had  never  asked  or 
touched  upon  before.  It  made  her  hesitate  a  moment, 
but  only  a  moment,  for  she  replied,  with  a  look  of 
gratitude  that  expressed  far  more  than  her  earnest 
words  : 

"You  are  training  me  to  be  a  good  woman,  and  oh," 
bringing  her  hands  together,  "  I  do  hope  I  shall  be 
one  !" 

"  That's  a  good  answer,  my  child,"  patting  and  kiss 
ing  her ;  "  but  it  doesn't  go  far  enough,  so  I  will  com 
plete  it  for  you.  I  am  trying  to  make  a  good  woman  of 
you,  and  a  wise  one,  too,  and  you  are  fast  becoming  both," 
looking  at  her  with  a  pride  that  for  au  instant  softened 
the  keenness  of  his  gaze.  "  I  have  more  in  store  for  you 
than  this.  Heaven  gave  you  beauty ;  I  have  done  my 
'best  to  cultivate  your  mind  and  guide  your  heart.  Be 
sides,  I  have  done  that  without  which  your  life  would  be 
a  failure.  It  must  not  be  a  failure.  Xo,  no!  I  have 
schemed  and  toiled  too  hard  for  such  an  ending." 

"  Dear  father,  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  be  what  you  would 
have  me,"  she  said,  softly. 


HISTORY  IN  PERSPECTIVE.  57 

He  caught  at  these  words  with  a  smile,  under  the  satis 
faction  of  which  there  glimmered  a  wrariness  her  inno 
cence  did  not  detect. 

"  Since  you  have  so  pledged  yourself  to  be  what  I  de 
sire,"  he  resumed,  with  more  confidence  in  his  voice  and 
manner,  "I  will  no  longer  keep  from  you  the  plan  that  1 
have  kept  steadily  in  view  ever  since  you  first  sat  upon 
my  knee.  What  you  have  told  me  to-night  warns  me  to 
keep  silence  no  longer.  You  are  no  longer  a  child.  I 
must  talk  to  you  now  as  a  woman — one  who,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  is  called  upon  to  decide  between  the  hap 
piness  and  misery  of  the  future.  So  this  boy  to-day 
asked  you  to  promise  to  become  his  wife,  did  he  ?  What 
was  it  you  said  to  him?" 

"  I"  told  him  I  would  ask  you,"  she  replied,  drooping 
her  eyes — for,  despite  the  frankness  of  her  nature,  she 
felt  a  little  shrinking  in  her  heart,  as  if  it  would  fain  keep 
this  secret  there. 

"  What  did  he  say  to  that?" 

"  He  told  me  that  I  need  not  be  afraid  to  ask  you  ;  that 
you  were  so  kind  to  me  that,  if  I  told  you  I  loved  him, 
you  would  let  him  love  me,  and  marry  me  some  day." 

This  she  had  said  with  her  eyes  downcast,  and  with  evi 
dent  effort,  for  her  lips  had  trembled  as  she  spoke  the  words, 
and  a  flush  of  crimson,  deepening  as  she  went  on,  had 
dyed  her  cheeks  with  a  rosy  hue  that  vied  with  the  color 
of  her  bright-red,  arching  mouth.  She  could  not  herself 
have  accounted  for  this  agitation  and  confusion,  nor  why, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  found  it  cost  her  such  an 
effort  to  confide  in  him.  Even  now  an  impulse  was  upon 
her  to  run  away  from  his  presence,  or  else  burst  into  tears 
and  ask  him  to  question  her  no  more. 

He  seemed  to  have  penetrated  her  thoughts ;  for,  putting 
out  his  hand,  he  stroked  her  hair  with  a  reassuring  ges 
ture  of  his  affection,  and  said  :  "  There,  there,  child  !  you 
need  not  be  afraid  of  me.  The  boy  spoke  fair  to  you, 
no  doubt.  But,  some  day,  I  will  show  you  a  man  you 
will  think  more  of  than  a  hundred  boys  like  this  one, 
who  talks  of  what  he  does  not  know  and  cannot  under 
stand." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  questioning  face,  a  dazed 


58  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

look,  as  if  she  had  heard  his  words  only,  and  had  no  com 
prehension  of  their  meaning  except  their  earnestness. 

"  You  wonder  who  this  man  shall  be  ?  "\Vhv,  when  you 
become  a  woman,  he  shall  be  your  husband — a  great- man, 
a  rich  man.  You  shall  live  in  a  grand  house  with  him. 
He  will  love  you — worship  you  !  All  the  women  shall 
envy  you — all  the  men  envy  him.  And  I?  Why,  I  will 
sit  all  day  and  watch  you,  with  these  eyes  running  over 
with  joy  until  they  close  for  ever.  So  tell  this  boy  to 
morrow,"  he  went  on,  with  increasing  enthusiasm,  "that 
you  cannot  marry  him,  for  your  father  has  promised  you 
to  another  man — a  great  man,  a  rich  man,  a  noble  man  ! 
Tell  him  I  say  my  darling  child  shall  never  be  a  poor  man's 
wife.  She  shall  never  know  hardship,  want  and  sorrow. 
No,  no  !  Let  him  go  his  way  again.  He  must  find  some 
one  else  to  share  his  crust  and  water — for  that  is  all  he 
has  to  offer  you." 

Here  he  broke  off  in  a  wild,  contemptuous  laugh,  and 
threw  out  his  hands  with  a  repellent  disgust.  Then,  be 
fore  the  girl  could  give  expression  to  one  of  the  many 
thoughts  that  crowded  on  her  mind,  he  said  : 

"  We  have  talked  about  it  enough  to-night.  To-morrow 
morning  I  will  tell  you  more.  Get  me  the  Bible ;  it  is 
time  for  bed.'' 

She  brought  him  the  Book,  and  he  opened  it  and  read. 
But  she  heard  never  a  word  ;  only  his  voice,  now  and 
then,  in  shriller  cadence,  arrested  the  strange  current  of 
her  thoughts,  down  which  floated,  in  inextricable  con 
fusion,  odd  fancies,  misgivings,  hopes  and  fears. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE. 

TO  Volney  Slade  just  now  the  world  was  bright  and 
alluring  with   promise.     Standing  on   the  threshold 
of  the  new  life  he  had  marked  out  for  himself,  he  held 
no   counsel  with  doubt.     Buoyant,  confident  and   strong 
in  hope,  he  longed  to  begin  that  battle  with  the  world  in 


A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE.  59 

which  he  already  saw  himself  the  easy  victor,  bearing 
away  the  spoils  of  wealth  and  fame.  Restless,  nervous 
and  impatient,  his  life  during  the  past  five  years  had 
made  him  more  so.  He  hated  this  farm  life  and  every 
thing  connected  with  it.  To  him  it  was  at  best  a  dreary 
and  monotonous  existence,  and  his  incessant  longing  to 
get  away  from  it,  and  seek  employment  more  congenial 
to  his  tastes,  had  at  last  taken  definite  form,  in  his  reso 
lution  to  leave  his  home  and  seek  his  fortune  in  the  city. 
Nor  had  he  any  doubt  of  a  good  fortune  awaiting  him. 
No  youth  had  ever  felt  more  certain  of  that.  It  was 
there.  All  that  he  had  to  do  was  to  go  and  work  for  it, 
and  it  would  come.  He  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  gospel 
of  work,  in  the  fruits  of  industry;  but  it  must  be  the 
work  "of  his  choice — work  in  which  he  could  take  an  in 
terest,  and  for  which  his  genius  was  adapted.  He  had 
unwavering  faith  in  his  genius.  He  felt  it  struggling 
within  him,  and  impatiently  waiting,  like  himself,  for  a 
suitable  opportunity  to  display  itself.  To  be  sure,  he  had 
invented  many  useful  little  appliances  about  the  house  and 
barn,  which  simplified  and  saved  labor  as  well ;  but  how 
trifling  were  these  successes  compared  to  what  he  could 
achieve  had  he  the  tools  and  the  chance !  And  these  he 
knew  could  only  be  found  in  the  great  city  he  had  read 
about,  where  manufactories  and  machine  shops,  with  tall 
chimneys  and  ponderous  hammers,  filled  the  air  with 
smoke  and  din.  Such  was  his  anticipation,  such  his  de 
termination.  In  vain  had  his  mother  suggested  the  im 
probabilities  of  the  one  and  the  foolishness  of  the  other. 
He  only  answered  her  with  the  impetuous  reiteration  of 
his  resolution.  His  nurse  had  more  than  once  ventured 
to  affect  his  determination  by  appealing  to  his  sympathies, 
and  representing  how  lonely  and  miserable  his  mother 
and  she  would  be  without  him.  To  this  he  would  reply 
that  of  two  evils  he  must  choose  the  least;  that  it  \vas 
better  for  them  to  be  lonely  than  that  he  should  remain 
on  the  farm  and  lose  the  golden  opportunity  of  his  life. 

Another  and  perhaps  as  strong  an  inducement  as  his  am 
bition  to  leave  the  place  was  his  hatred  for  and  contempt 
of  his  stepfather,  and  the  irksomeness  of  a  position  which 
showed  the  slightest  dependence  upon  his  bounty.  The 


60  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

boyish  jealousy,  which,  from  the  beginning  of  the  court 
ship,  had  rebelled  at  this  marriage,  had  firmly  grown  into 
an  aversion  which  he  took  no  pains,  to  conceal,  and  which, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  fully  reciprocated.  Stepfather  and 
stepson  had  always  been  in  collision — the  one  continually 
insisting  on  obedience  and  respect,  the  other  as  steadily 
refusing  either.  Thus  from  the  first  they  had  gone  on 
combating  each  other,  until  now  each  held  the  other  in 
derision  and  contempt,  steadily  avoiding  each  other's  pres 
ence,  and,  when  that  was  impossible,  exchanging  the  few 
est  words  of  frigid  civility. 

This  morning  the  young  man  had  come  down  to  his 
breakfast  even  later  than  usual.  Worried  and  distracted 
in  his  mind  about  the  girl  he  loved — for  he  had  passed 
the  night  in  many  doubts  and  misgivings  as  to  the  result 
of  his  suit — he  more  than  ever  wished  to  eat  his  meal 
without  the  presence  of  his  stepfather.  He  did  not  feel 
as  if  he  could  endure  having  his  jaded  mind  goaded  by 
the  sneers  or  harsh  words  of  this  man,  who  lately  had 
met  him  with  little  else.  As  he  entered  the  room,  he 
quickly  saw  that  his  stepfather,  who  cast  him  a  surly 
look,  was  evidently  waiting  for  his  appearance.  And  the 
pale,  anxious  face  of  his  mother,  as  she  greeted  him  with 
a  tremulous  "Good-morning,"  had  in  its  covert  glance  an 
imploring  expressing,  as  if  .-he  were  asking  him  for  her 
sake  to  keep  the  peace  with  this  man  here.  Beyond  the 
haughty  greeting  of  a  stilf  bow  to  the  eyes  that  now 
scowled  ominously  at  him,  the  young  man  made  no  re 
turn,  but  took  his  seat  in  silence,  while  a  soft  sigh  of  re 
lief  escaped  his  mother's  lips.  Only  a  few  moments  ago 
she  had  so  dreaded  their  coming  together.  It  was  some 
thing  to  be  thankful  for  that  they  had  met  at  least  in 
silence. 

The  silence,  like  that  which  hushes  the  air  before  ihe 
bursting  of  the  storm,  was  of  short  duration,  and  as  sud 
denly  broken:  "So  you  joined  in  the  laugh  against  me 
last  night,  did  you?  You  were  one  of  those  fools  who 
tried  to  stop  freedom  of  speech,  were  you?  I  saw  you 
stamping  and  shouting  with  the  rest.  Yet  you  have  the 
impudence  to  come  this  morning  and  sit  down  at  my 
table  and  eat  my  bread  and  butter  !  What  a  high-spirited, 


A  SUDDEX  DEPARTURE.  61 

noble  young  man  you  arc,  to  be  sure,  eating  the  bread  of 
idleness,  and  content  to  be  dependent  on  the  man  you  so 
much  despise  !" 

The  anger  with  which  the  old  man  had  begun  to  speak 
now  subsided  into  the  cutting  sneer  of  these  last  words. 
There  was  a  pause  and  a  hush  that  for  an  instant  suc 
ceeded  this  outburst.  Then  the  young  man  slowly  pushed 
away  his  plate,  laid  his  knife  and  fork  quietly  beside  it, 
and  rose  to  his  feet.  His  face  was  now  even  whiter  than 
his  mothcr'-s,  who  sprang  toward  him  and  caught  him  by 
the  arm,  and  besought  him  to  come  away  and  make  no 
reply.  He  smiled  contemptuously  at  her  fears,  and  put 
aside  her  hands,  which  lie  could  scarcely  release,  so  tight 
ly  did  she  cling  to  him.  Then,  folding  his  arms,  he 
flashed*  his  eyes  upon  the  man  who  had  insulted  him. 
As  yet  he  could  not  command  himself  to  speak,  nor  could 
he  wholly  still  the  impulse  that  strove  with  him  to  wipe 
out  this  insult  with  a  blow  upon  the  craven  face  that  now 
cowered  beneath  the  white  heat  of  his  ga/c. 

At  last  he  conquered  himself  and  spoke,  and  in  his 
voice  was  a  forced  calmness,  which  told  full  well  what 
a  torrent  of  wrath  was  surging  beneath  his  utterance. 
"  You  have  spoken  the  truth,"  he  said.  "  I  do  despise 
you,  from  the  very  bottom  of  my  heart,  and  I  despise 
myself  to  think  I  have  so  long  remained  under  your 
roof  and  sat  at  your  table.  I  have  never  eaten  the 
bread  of  idleness ;  I  have  earned  far  more  and  better 
bread  than  your  meanness  has  provided  for  this  table, 
from  which  Poverty  could  go  away  hungry,  and  the  ap 
petite  of  Starvation  look  in  vain  for  relief.  Dependent 
on  you  !  No  worse  curse  could  fall  upon  man  or  beast. 
I  thank  God  it  is  not  for  me  to  be  a  recipient  of  your 
generous  bounty.  I  will  gladly  leave  this  place,  this 
very  day — yes,  this  very  hour.  And  mark  me  well,  sir, 
were  it  not  for  my  mother,  I  had  never  entered  your 
house,  from  which  I  carry  not  a  single  pleasant  memory." 

Turning  from  him  he  went  straight  back  to  his  room, 
to  make  good  his  promise  of  immediate  departure.  Upon 
returning,  soon  after,  with  a  small  valise  in  his  hand,  he 
found  his  mother  alone,  with  her  head  bowed  upon  the 
table. 


62  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

"  Good-bye,  mother  !"  he  said,  raisins;  her  face  and  kiss 
ing  her  wet  cheeks.  "I  might  as  well  go  now  as  ever. 
You  will  see  me  again  very  soon.  I  will  write  to  you  in 
a  few  days,  and  when  I  am  well  on  the  road  to  success,  I 
will  come  and  tell  you  all  about  it.  And,  mother" — he 
hesitated,  while  his  cheeks  flushed  and  a  softer  tone  came 
into  his  voice — "please  forget  my  angry  words  of  yester 
day.  I  did  not  mean  them.  I  know  you  have  always 
done  the  best  you  could  for  me,  and  I  am  grateful  to 
you  for  it,  indeed  I  am." 

She  drew  his  head  down  upon  her  bosom,  and  kissed 
him  over  and  over  again.  She  strained  him  to  her  heart 
as  she  had  done  in  those  dark  and  lonely  days  when  lie 
had  been  a  child,  and  her  crushed  hopes  had  found  life 
again  in  him.  But  as  she  had  never  told  him  then  aught 
of  her  sorrow,  so  now  she  kept  from  him  the  revelation 
of  the  night  before.  Yes,  he  should  go  away  ignorant  of 
this  fresh  grief  and  greater  peril  which  now  threatened 
his  mother.  He  returned  her  embrace,  and  pressing 
her  lips  with  a  parting  kiss,  he  hurried  to  the  door,  dash 
ing  the  tears  from  his  eyes  as  he  went.  He  had  thought 
it  an  easy  task  to  bid  her  good-bye,  but  in  this  brief  space 
of  parting  what  memories  of  her  love  came  back  to  him  ! 
His  hand  was  on  the  latch,  when  a  faint  cry  from  her 
called  him  back.  And  as  he  came  to  her,  she  put  a  purse 
into  his  hand.  He  refused  to  take  it,  for  he  knew 
how  much  of  self-denial  was  represented  in  these  scant 
savings. 

"No,  no — keep  it!"  he  said.  "You  need  this  more 
than  I.  I  have  enough  to  take  care  of  me  until  I  can 
earn  more.  God  bless  you,  mother!  you  are  too  kind  to 
me.  And  I  have  been  so  harsh  to  you  these  past  few 
days!  ]>ut  you  have  forgiven  me  fully,  freely?" 

For  answer  she  caught  him  again  in  her  outstretched 
arms;  and  in  another  moment  he  had  gone  out  of  the 
room,  leaving  her  there,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  the 
purse  upon  the  floor  where  it  had  fallen.  As  he  passed 
hurriedly  through  the  kitchen,  Aziel,  darting  across  the 
room,  placed  herself  in  his  way.  She  spoke  his  name 
hesitatingly,  and  with  such  a  tender  accent  that  he  stopped, 
and  greeted  her  with  a  kindlier  look  than  was  his  wont 


A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE.  63 

when  she  addressed  him  so  familiarly.  Strange  he  always 
thought  it — and  he  had  often  told  her  so — that  she  should 
always  talk  and  act  toward  him,  when  they  were  alone,  as 
if  she  were  still  his  nurse  and  he  a  child. 

"You  will  let  me  call  you  Volney,  now  that  you  are 
going  to  leave  me?"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  lightly 
upon  his  arm.  "  I  heard  it  all,"  nodding  toward  the 
room  he  had  left,  "and  you  spoke  to  him  like  a  man,  as 
you  are,"  looking  at  him  proudly  through  eyes  he  saw 
had  been  weeping. 

"Yes,"  he  rejoined,  with  triumph  in  his  smile,  as  he 
took  her  hand  in  his  hearty  clasp;  "I  think  I  did  honor 
to  my  nurse.  You  brought  me  up,  Aziel — and  I  thank 
you  for  it — with  an  independent  and  unbroken  spirit.  It 
shall  wever  bend  or  break  beneath  the  power  of  such  a 
man  as  he." 

"  Nor  anv  other  man !"  she  said,  her  faith  in  him  filling- 

•i  ~ 

her  face  with  a  glow  of  confidence  and  admiration. 
"  Wherever  you  go,  I  know  you  wrill  be  a  king  among 
men." 

"  I  shall  try  to  make  good  your  prophecy.  But  good 
bye,"  he  said,  shaking  her  hand.  "  I  must  get  away  from 
this  house.  I  shall  feel  more  like  a  man,  when  I  have 
shaken  its  dust  from  my  feet." 

Still  she  detained  him.  Her  hands  had  crept  slowly 
up  to  his  shoulders  with  a  tremulous  motion.  There 
was  a  yearning  look  on  her  face,  as  if  she  longed  for 
something  she  dared  not  express  ;  and  in  her  eyes,  that 
now  fell  beneath  his  questioning  gaze,  there  was  the  self 
same  expression  he  had  known  from  childhood,  and  had 
often  seen  in  later  years,  when  he  had  caught  her  looking 
at  him  from  her  seat  behind  the  fireplace  in  the  other 
room.  It  was  a  mysterious  look  this  uone,  of  love  most 
certainly,  yet  veiled  in  an  indescribable  control  of  the 
features,  as  if  its  existence  were  a  pleasure,  but  its  full 
revelation  must  not  find  expression. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?"  he  questioned,  perplexed  but 
patient.  "  What  would  my  dear,  good  nurse  ask  of  her 
boy  ?" 

"  A  parting  kiss,"  she  murmured,  and  he  felt  her  hands 
clinging  more  closely  to  him. 


64  AS  IT  MAY  NAPPES. 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  lie  laughed,  throwing  his  arms  about 
her.  *'  Why,  you  poor  hungry  soul,  there  are  three  of 
them  for  you!"  suiting  the  action  to  the  word. 

"  And  may  I  kiss  you  good-bye?"  she  said,  still  holding 
to  him  as  if  she  eould  not  let  him  go. 

"Yes,  yes  !  AVliy,  Aziel,  what  an  odd  question  !  Kiss 
me  all  you  want  to,  and  then,  I  beg  of  you,  let  me  go." 

Smiling  through  her  tears,  she  kissed  him,  bid  him 
God-speed,  and  blessed  him  ;  then  she  turned  slowly  away, 
and  hid  her  face  in  her  apron.  She  could  not  bear  to  see 
him  leave  her;  for,  when  he  should  go  out  of  that  door, 
she  knew  that  all  that  had  made  her  life  happy  had  gone 
out  with  his  departing  steps. 

"Good-bve,  Aziel!  You  will  soon  hear  from  your 
boy." 

With  these  words,  that  Biade  her  sobs  break  out 
afresh,  he  sprang  across  the  threshold,  and  ran  lightly 
down  the  path  leading  to  the  woodlands  that  skirted  the 
rear  of  the  farm,  but  was  no  portion  of  its  domain.  As 
soon  as  he  reached  the  forest,  he  turned  and  took  a  part 
ing  look  at  the  farm-house.  Pie  saw  Aziel  standing  at 
the  kitchen-door,  and  she  waved  her  hand  to  him.  He 
waved  his  in  return,  threw  up  his  valise  in  the  air,  and 
caught  it  again,  with  a  joyous  shout.  Then,  with  a  bound, 
he  leaped  the  fence,  and  disappeared  in  the  woods.  A 
few  moments  brought  him  to  a  little  clearing  which  had 
been  made  by  his  own  hands.  Here  a  brook  ran  babbling 
along  its  course — a  brook  over  which  he  had  built  a  rustic 
bridge,  from  which  lie  had  launched  many  a  boat  that  had 
foundered  ere  it  began  its  voyage.  On  the  farther  bank, 
close  by  an  old  dead  tree,  was  a  seat  he  himself  had  fash 
ioned  there,  years  ago,  out  of  dead  limbs  and  branches. 
Into  this  seat — the  place  where  he  had  spent  many  quiet, 
thoughtful  hours — he  cast  himself,  and  soon  he  began  to 
have  thoughts  more  serious,  and  more  pleasurable,  too, 
than  had  ever  before  come  to  him  in  this  place,  which 
from  boyhood  had  been  his  favorite  resort. 


THE  HASTE  OF  JEALOUSY.  65 

CHAPTER   X. 

THE  HASTE  OF  JEALOUSY. 

T  IFE  had  opened  to  Volney  Slade  in  earnest  now.  Yet 
\  1  it  was  an  agreeable  opening,  for  from  the  threshold 
of  expectation  he  was  viewing  the  future.  The  sun, 
whose  beams  now  fell  upon  him,  was  not  warmer  than 
his  hopes,  nor  the  wide  blue  heaven  above  him  greater 
than  his  designs,  which  thrilled  the  blood  in  his  veins  as 
he  pictured  his  future — a  bright  scroll  upon  which  he 
should  write  his  name  in  letters  of  gold.  Twenty  years 
old,  and  his  own  master !  Happy  thought.  To  think,  to 
plan,  to  'do  for  himself — what  true  freedom  it  was !  The 
drudgery  of  farm-life  left  for  ever,  and  the  wide  world 
before  him — how  his  eye  kindled  and  his  heart  vibrated 
with  the  thought !  The  birds  that  sang  in  the  trees  above 
him  gave  forth  no  more  entrancing  song  than  this,  nor 
the  merry  brook  no  sweeter  melody.  After  thus  giving 
for  quite  a  while  free  rein  to  his  fancies  and  his  hopes, 
he  returned  again  to  more  sober  thoughts ;  for,  happy  as 
he  was  in  his  present  free  condition,  he  did  not  forget  that 
it  had  brought  with  it  a  responsibility  for  failure  which 
now  belonged  to  him  alone.  He  had  started  out  to  be  his 
own  guide  and  counselor,  and  how,  and  where,  and  what 
to  do,  he  must  now  for  and  by  himself  decide.  He  was 
not  without  a  plan.  Strong  purpose  never  fails  for  want 
of  a  plan.  His  purpose  in  life  had  been  too  long,  and 
thoughtfully,  and  resolutely  forming  to  find  him  now 
asking  himself  what  it  was  best  for  him  to  do,  where  he 
should  go,  and  how  begin  his  new  life.  He  took  out  his 
pocket-book,  and  slowly  began  to  examine  its  contents. 
A  look  of  pleasure  came  to  him  as  he  turned  over  a  small 
roll  of  bills,  and  knew  that  they  assured  him  of  food  and 
shelter  for  some  time  to  come,  even  if  his  first  wages 
were  small,  as  he  anticipated  they  would  be. 

A  deeper  satisfaction  stole  over  his  features  as  he 
brought  to  view  a  small  piece  of  paper  and  began  to 
read  it,  half  aloud.  It  was  an  advertisement,  clipped 
from  a  weekly  paper  published  in  the  city  to  which  he 


66  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

was  going.  It  had  been  his  custom  to  cut  out  of  this 
journal  any  and  all  advertisements  which  bore  in  the 
least  upon  the  trade  to  which  he  had  devoted  his 
thoughts  and  all  his  spare  time.  Many  of  these  adver 
tisements  he  had  answered  by  letter,  but  the  responses 
had  as  yet  failed  to  come  up  to  his  expectations.  But 
he  had  never  despaired  of  success,  and  now  he  was  sure 
of  it.  A  machinist  lie  had  always  hoped  to  be,  and  a 
machinist  he  should  be,  he  thought,  as  he  re-read  this 
little  slip  of  printed  paper,  which,  coming  into  his  pos 
session  only  the  day  before,  held  out  to  him  the  great 
est  promise  for  his  hopes. 
It  read  as  follows : 

WANTED— A  YOUXIr   MAX  TO   LEAKX   THE   CAKE   OF 
Machinery,  and  to  make  himself  generally  useful  in  repairs,  in 
a  cotton  factory."   Apply  to  WILLIAM  MAESH,  at  Highland  Mills, 
Manayunk,  Pa. 

If  this  had  been  his  own  advertisement,  written  by  him 
self,  it  could  not  better  describe  the  situation  he  desired. 
This,  to  him,  striking  coincidence  seemed  the  first  stroke 
of  fortune — a  presentiment  of  his  success.  How  odd  if 
he  Avere  to  get  the  place,  and  find  himself  to-morrow  in  the 
very  situation  he  had  longed  and  waited  for  !  Nor  did  he 
think  himself  too  sanguine.  Stranger  things  than  this 
had  happened  in  the  world.  He  had  read  of  them,  heard 
of  them,  and  seen  them.  There  had  often  been  lucky 
chances  in  men's  lives,  a  happy  concurrence  of  circum 
stances  that  gave  them  success,  or  set  them  on  the  road  to 
it,  when  they  least  expected  help.  Why  should  not  For 
tune  smile  on  him  ?  She  did  ;  she  would.  He  knew  it. 
Already  he  was  transported  to  the  scene  of  his  labors  and 
his  triumphs.  The  lofty  granite  building,  with  story  piled 
upon  story,  loomed  up  before  him.  He  could  see  the 
smoke  belching  from  the  huge  chimney,  and  hear  the  dull 
roar  of  the  furnaces  that  made  the  mighty  engine  pulsate 
with  an  energy  that  vibrated  through  the  great  mass  of 
machinery  until  the  remotest  spindle  felt  its  throbbing  life. 
He  entered  the  spacious  office  with  a  hesitating  step.  But 
why  had  he  hesitated  ?  No  sooner  was  his  errand  an 
nounced  than  he  was  told  the  situation  had  not  been  filled, 
and  he  could  have  it.  And  now  he  was  at  work,  stir- 


THE  HASTE   OF  JEALOUSY.  67 

rounded  by  many  of  the  machines  he  had  read  about,  and 
some  he  thought  he  must  have  seen  in  his  dreams,  for  they 
seemed  familiar  even  in  their  strangeness.  How  glorious 
it  all  was  !  What  a  harmony  in  the  thousand  sounds  of 
this  rushing  whirl,  and  din,  and  roar,  and  clatter  of  wheels 
and  pulleys,  and  shafts  and  belts,  and  carding  and  spin 
ning  machines,  and  looms  !  Above  it  all  rang  out  the 
laugh  and  song  of  happy  labor,  from  the  strong  lungs  of 
men,  and  the  soft  and  sweeter  lips  of  women. 

The  sweetest  dreams  end  and  visions  vanish ;  and  of- 
tenest  when  we  most  believe  them  real  and  long  for  more. 
So  it  was  with  this  one.  He  would  have  never  of  his  own 
volition  checked  his  imagination  in  his  picture-paint 
ing,  and  would  have  gone  on  with  his  castle-building 
far  into*  the  day,  had  not  the  distant  baying  of  a  dog 
broken  in  upon  his  fancy's  spell,  and  brought  his  mind 
back  to  the  realities  of  the  present  hour  with  startling 
suddenness.  He  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  flash  of  joy  and 
listened.  Again  the  sound  came  from  the  valley,  and  he 
recognized  it  with  that  quick  perception  that  ever  belongs  to 
a  lover's  ears.  It  was  the  baying  of  Emily's  dog  Caesar.  She 
must  be  with  him.  Another  stroke  of  fortune  !  He  could 
see  her  without  waiting  till  evening,  the  usual  hour  for  their 
secret  meeting.  He  caught  up  his  valise,  and  sped  down 
the  hill  with  flying  feet;  yet  not  faster  did  they  leap  alorig 
the  ground  than  did  his  heart  beat  with  eager  excitement. 
A  thousand  conjectures  as  to  the  result  of  his  interview 
with  her  rushed  through  his  mind.  What  had  she  to  tell 
him  about  the  night  before  ?  What  had  her  father  said  ? 
Had  he  refused  his  consent  ?  Was  she  still  determined  to 
love  him?  or  was  her  father  more  to  her  than  himself? 
Panting  with  his  exertion,  and  with  his  face  showing  his 
excitement,  he  leaped  the  brook  the  last  time  in  his  head 
long  course,  patted  the  dog,  who  had  bounded  to  meet 
him,  parted  a  dense  copse  of  willows,  and  in  another  mo 
ment  was  in  her  presence.  He  would  have  rushed  to  her 
and  caught  her  in  his  arms,  but  there  was  that  in  her  look 
and  attitude  which  restrained  him. 

Seated  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  Emily  cast  a  shy  look 
up  at  him,  then  dropped  her  eyes  upon  her  hands,  which 
were  tightly  folded  in  her  lap,  and  worked  convulsively, 


68  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

as  if  she  were  striving  in  this  way  to  get  control  of  herself. 
She  was  trembling  violently  despite  her  efforts,  and  the 
tears,  though  forced  back  with  all  her  will,  would  well  up 
in  her  eyes.  He  gave  no  expression  to  the  disappoint 
ment  he  felt  at  her  strange  and  unusual  reception.  He 
approached  her  slowly,  speaking  her  name  softly  ;  then 
he  seated  himself  beside  her  and  took  her  hand  in  his. 
It  was  cold  and  tremulous,  but  she  did  not  draw  it  away 
from  him.  On  the  contrary,  she  nestled  closer  to  him,  and 
with  a  little  sob  laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  her  face 
still  downcast  and  half  hidden  by  the  folds  of  her  hood. 
He  pushed  away  the  hood  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  She 
gave  back  to  his  inquiring  gaze  an  expression  of  love,  that 
had  a  reserve  and  timidity  in  it  he  had  never  seen  before. 
A  great  contrast  was  this  to  her  frank  and  happy  ways  of 
only  the  day  previous,  when  they  had  sat  in  this  very 
spot,  and  she  had  talked  and  laughed  with  him  as  freely 
as  a  child  might  have  done,  telling  him  how  much  she 
loved  him  with  an  artlessness  of  manner  as  bewitching  to 
him  as  the  simple  modesty  with  which  she  had  received 
his  caresses  and  listened  to  his  plans  for  their  married  life 
— a  life  which  was  as  new  to  her  thoughts  as  any  Arabian 
tale  he  might  have  told  her. 

What  had  wrought  such  a  change  in  her  ?  he  asked 
himself,  as  he  gazed  more  intently  into  her  face ;  and 
somehow  the  returning  smile  was  veiled  in  sadness.  The 
look  of  love  was  still  in  her  eyes,  but  out  of  their  blue 
depths  there  came  no  sparkle,  no  rushing  light  of  her  soul 
through  them,  as  if  they  would  tell  him  more  of  her  love, 
and  better,  too,  than  her  lips  could  express.  Unable 
longer  to  endure  the  suspense  of  his  fears,  he  kissed  her 
passionately,  and  begged  her  to  speak  and  tell  him  what 
had  so  changed  her. 

"Tell  me  the  worst,"  he  said,,  with  a  confident  smile, 
that  had  the  faintest  trace  of  bitterness  in  it.  "  I  can  bear 
to  hear  anything  this  morning.  I  never  felt  so  strong  or 
so  defiant  of  fortune.  Yes,  Emily,  I  am  able  to  cope  with 
any  ill-news,  save  that  you  do  not  love  me.  That  I  could 
not  bear  to  hear,  for  your  love  is  my  strength,  my  hope, 
my  only  joy  !'' 

"And  you  will  always  love  me,  won't  you?"  she  asked, 


THE  HASTE   OF  JEALOUSY.  69 

with  a  trifle  of  energy  in  the  suddenness  with  which  she- 
put  the  question.  "You  will  not  forget  me?  You  could 
not  grow  tired  of  me  ?" 

While  there  was  a  resolute  faith  in  the  earnest  face  up 
turned  to  his,  there  was  in  her  voice  a  beseeching  tone,  as 
if  the  answer  he  would  make  should  assure  her  beyond 
the  slightest  doubt  of  the  endurance  of  his  affection. 
Young  though  she  was  in  love's  experience,  she  had  al 
ready  learned  that  love's  sweetest,  dearest  secret  was  the 
consciousness  of  being  loved,  and  loved  wholly,  fully, 
devotedly,  unceasingly,  for  ever. 

At  any  other  time,  and  under  any  other  circumstances, 
had  she  asked  him  such  questions,  he  would  have  laughed 
outright  and  gently  chided  her  for  being  so  silly.  But 
just  noA*,  on  the  eve  of  his  going  away  from  her,  and 
remembering  his  adventure  at  the  cottage  the  night  be 
fore,  and  his  suspicions  of  Avhat  her  father  had  been  say 
ing  to  her,  these  questions  had  a  deeper  meaning  to  him 
than  the  mere  desire  on  her  part  to  have  him  reiter- 
erate  his  pledges  of  affection.  In  them  he  heard  the  echo 
of  her  father's  voice.  They  were  to  him  the  simple  repe 
tition  of  the  old  man's  words,  his  suggestions,  his  poison 
ous  insinuations,  his  evil  prophecies,  by  which  he  hoped 
to  bring  their  love  to  naught.  How  should  he  answer 
her?  He  tried  to  do  so  with  something  of  calmness,  but 
stung  by  the  thought  that  her  father  had  taken  so  mean 
an  advantage  of  him,  and  not  a  little  hurt  that,  influenced 
by  such  insinuations,  she  could  be  so  ready  to  doubt  him, 
he  lost  control  of  himself,  and  for  the  first  time  spoke 
harshly  to  her. 

"  If  you  loved  me  as  much  as  you  ought,  or  as  I 
thought  you  did,  you  would  not  ask  me  such  questions !" 
he  said,  looking  at  her  for  the  instant  half  angrily,  half 
contemptuously ;  then  checking  himself — for  he  saw  her 
lips  quiver,  and  her  face  grow  white,  with  a  scared  look — 
he  went  on,  trying  to  smile :  "  But  I  am  not  angry  with 
you.  Your  father  is  to  blame  for  this.  He  told  you  that 
ray  love  for  you  could  not  last ;  that  I  would  forget  you 
— that  I  would  grow  tired  of  you.  Oh,  Emily !" — with 
a  reproachful  look,  though  he  caught  her  in  his  arms  and 
passionately  kissed  her — -"how  could  you  believe  him? 


70  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

The  veriest  child,  it  seems  to  me,  ought  to  have  seen 
through  his  designs.  Yet  I  forgot" — his  voice  more 
soothing  and  manner  more  tender — "you  are  but  a  child, 
after  all — a  child  though  a  woman  grown.  You  are  not 
to  blame ;  he  has  made  you  so.  I  love  you  all  the  more 
because  you  are  so  childlike  in  all  your  thoughts  and 
ways.  AVere  you  otherwise,  I  would  not  love  you  half 
so  much." 

His  words  had  well  described  her  character  and  appear 
ance,  for  in  these  respects  she  seemed  indeed  a  child.  She 
had  a  small  and  slight  figure  and  a  fresh,  frank  face, 
whose  eyes  wore  the  open  look  of  honesty  itself.  Her 
words  were  as  free  as  her  manner,  and  both  of  them  art 
less  and  innocent.  Guileless  to  the  fullest  degree,  she 
suspected  no  evil,  for  her  own  purity  and  ingenuousness 
were  the  measure  of  her  faith  and  trust  in  others.  He 
had  called  her  a  child;  and  who  was  more  conscious  of  the 
fact  than  she  herself,  sitting  here  beside  him,  chiding  herself 
for  having  asked  him  if  he  would  always  love  her?  Cer 
tainly  she  was  a  child,  or  she  would  not  have  put  to  him 
so  foolish  a  question.  Had  he  not  told  her  many,  many 
times  that  he  would  love  her  till  his  dying  day?  Had 
she  not  believed  him?  did  she  not  believe  him  now? 
For  answer  to  these  questions,  she  put  her  arms  around 
his  neck  and  kissed  him;  for  he  had  often  told  her  that, 
when  she  loved  him  most,  she  must  kiss  him  this  way, 
and  especially  whenever  she  should  see  a  frown  upon  his 
face. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  pressing  her  to  him.  "I  know 
you  love  me.  I  will  never  doubt  you.  Come  what  may 
between  us,  I  am  sure  you  will  love  me  to  the  end  !" 

"  What  can  come  between  us?"  she  asked,  with  ques 
tioning,  wide-open  eyes,  clinging  to  him  with  a  little 
shudder  of  fear.  "I  know  you  will  always  love  me, 
and  I  shall  always  love  you;  and  father  says  if  I  love 
you  as  much  in  four  years  from  this  time  as  I  do  now, 
I  may  marry  you.  Oh,  we  shall  be  so  happy  then  !" 

She  clasped  her  hands  together  in  an  ecstasy  of  glee, 
but  suddenly  relapsed  into  silence,  as  she  saw  the  grave 
look  that  had  so  quickly  overshadowed  his  face. 

"  Four  years  to  wait !"  he  bitterly  exclaimed,  after  a 


THE  HASTE  OF  JEALOUSY.  71 

long  pause,  during  which  he  had  steadily  scanned  her 
face,  as  if  he  would  find  there  some  trace  of  mischief, 
some  evidence  that  she  had  spoken  these  words  only  to 
try  him.  "  Poor,  innocent  child  !  Your  father  may  de 
ceive  you  with  such  a  promise,  but  he  cannot  me.  Four 
years  to  wait !  Who  can  tell  what  may  not  happen  in 
those  four  years?  No,-,  no,  Emily ;  your  father  might  as 
well  have  said,  '  Wait  for  ever/  for  I  see  plainly  he  will 
never  consent  to  our  marriage.  Tell  me,  what  else  did  he 
say?  What  objection  did  he  make  to  our  marrying  now, 
or  as  soon  as  I  get  a  situation  in  the  city  and  am  able  to 
support  you  ?" 

"  Ho  says  I  am  too — too  young  to  marry,  that — that  I 
must  wait  till  I  am  twenty ;  and,  besides,  he  wants  me  to 
see  sortie  one — " 

Here  she  broke  down.  She  could  not  go  o»  and  tell 
him  this,  when  his  face  looked  so  distressed  and  sad. 
Already  she  saw  a  shadow  of  distrust  creeping  across  his 
countenance,  which  sent  a  sharp  pang  through  her  heart 
and  suddenly  sealed  her  lips. 

He  was  in  no  mood  for  silence  now.  Indeed,  he  had, 
with  a  lover's  rapidity  of  reasoning,  apprehended  what 
she  had  been  about  to  tell  him,  and,  lover-like,  he  had 
misconstrued  the  motive  of  her  silence.  If  she  loved 
him  with  her  whole  heart,  why  did  she  not  give  him  her 
full  confidence?  he  asked  himself.  AVas  it  possible  that 
she,  so  childlike  in  appearance,  had  a  designing  and  de 
ceitful  heart  in  her  bosom?  Why  did  she  not  tell  him 
all,  with  that  frank  confidence  and  simple  faith  with 
which  until  this  hour  she  had  always  talked  to  him  ?  If 
she  meant  to  be  true  to  him,  what  was  there  for  her  to 
conceal  ?  Goaded  to  a  frenzy  of  jealousy,  which  showed 
itself  in  the  tremor  of  his  voice  and  the  quick  way  with 
which  he  put  her  from  him  and  rose  to  his  feet,  he  stood 
looking  down  upon  her  in  pity  and  anger,  and,  with  all 
trace  of  love  gone  out  of  his  face,  said : 

"  So  there  is  some  one  else,  is  there,  to  whom  your  kind 
father  would  give  your  heart  and  hand  ?  And  I  am-  to 
wait  until  you  see  this  man  and  decide  between  him  and 
me  ?  Oh,  Emily,  how  you  have  deceived  me !  Your 
heart  so  fickle,  and  your  vows  so  false !  when  I  believed 


72  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

you  as  fully  as  I  would  the  Spirit  of  Truth  come  down 
from  heaven." 

Ho  turned  away  from  her  and  began  to  stride  around 
the  little  inclosure  where  they  were,  biting  his  lips  and 
clench  ing  his  hands,  so  overcome  by  the  violence  of  his 
emotions  that  he  could  find  no  adequate  expression  for 
them,  unless  indeed  he  were  to  throw  himself  upon  the 
ground  and  cry  aloud  in  the  agony  of  his  despair. 

And  she  ?  Poor  child  !  With  a  groat  sob  she  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands,  and  rocking  to  and  fro,  wept  tears 
more  bitter  than  she  had  ever  known.  With  the  self- 
accusation  born  of  her  deep  and  abiding  love  for  him, 
she  blamed  herself  wholly  for  this  grief  she  saw  him  in. 
She  had  caused  it  all — and  when  she  loved  him  so! 
What  should  she  do?  She  crept  softly  over  to  where  he 
stood,  whUe  and  rigid,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground, 
and  put  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  He  let  it  rest  there, 
but  did  not  turn,  nor  look  at  her,  nor  give  any  indication 
that  he  knew  she  was  by  him. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said,  and  with  great  effort,  though 
the  voice  w-as  tender  and  pleading.  "  You  will  speak  to 
me  again — you  will — " 

"Yes,  I  will  speak  to  you!"  and  the  cold  harshness  of 
his  voice  startled  her  so  that  she  drew  a  pace  away  from 
him,  and  then,  with  a  little  gesture  of  dismay  at  the 
look  he  gave  her,  her  head  drooped  upon  her  bosom,  and 
she  stood  there  as  some  girl-martyr  of  the  olden  time 
might  have  stood,  waiting  for  the  unseen  blow  so  soon  to 
fall.  "  I  am  going  away  from  this  place  for  good.  Be 
fore  night  I  shall  be  in  the  city,  a  hundred  miles  from 
here ;  and  to-morrow  I  shall  seek  my  fortune  among 
strangers.  God  grant  they  may  be  kinder  to  me  than 
you  have  been,  Emily !" 

She  raised  her  head,  and  the  white  look  of  speechless 
agony  in  it,  and  the  little  half-articulate  cry  that  parted 
her  whiter  lips,  ought  to  have  chocked  his  passion — ay, 
melted  his  heart;  but  jealousy  is  blind  as  well  as  furious, 
and  he  went  on : 

"  You  cannot  deny  you  have  deceived  me.  You  gave 
me  your  promise — yes,  you  even  took  a  solemn  vow — to  be 
my  wife,  and  now,  as  I  leave  you  to  go  and  seek  my  for- 


THE  BASTE  OF  JEALOUSY.  73 

time,  and  foolishly  thought  that  I  should  take  with  me 
the  last  assurance  of  your  plighted  love,  you  give  me 
instead  to  understand  that  there  is  some  one  else  between 
whom  and  me  you  are  to  choose.  That  choice  " — with  a 
derisive  laugh — "  is  to  be  made  within  the  next  four 
years !" 

She  tried  to  speak  to  him,  to  move  toward  him,  but  she 
could  do  neither.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  her  throat  was 
filling  up  with  some  huge  lump,  and  her  hot  tongue 
growing  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth,  and  her  whole  body 
gradually  becoming  rigid.  His  harsh  utterances,  and 
manner  even  more  repelling,  had  driven  back  what  she 
would  have  spoken  and  even  struggled  to  articulate  despite 
this  chilling  spell  of  silence.  Neither  voice  nor  words 
came  t«  her  aid,  and  he  looking  at  her  so  reproachfully. 

" Good-bye!"  he  said,  turning  to  her  with  a  gesture  of 
contemptuous  pity.  "  The  sooner  I  go  the  better  for  us 
both.  Besides,  there  are  four  years  left  to  us  to  talk  this 
matter  over,  should  we  meet  again.  And  mark  me, 
Emily,  if  we  ever  come  together,  it  shall  be  at  your 
request,  not  mine." 

Like  a  terror-stricken  child,  she  stood  mute  and  motion 
less.  Again  she  tried  to  speak  to  him,  but  she  could 
not.  She  put  out  her  hand  gropingly,  but  it  fell  power 
less  to  her  side.  Strange  perversity  of  a  lover's  nature  ! 
He  took  these  signs  of  weakness  for  evidences  of  guilt. 
She  said  nothing,  because  she  had  no  defence  to  make. 
She  even  shrank  from  touching  him,  and  well  she  might. 

"  Good-bye !"  He  touched  her  cheek  with  a  cold  kiss. 
"We  will  part  with  this  formality,  at  least." 

Before  she  could  rouse  herself  to  look  up  at  him  he 
was  gone,  and  she  heard  his  swift  departing  footsteps 
beyond  the  copse  that  hid  him  from  sight.  He  was  gone! 
and  what  if  she  should  never  see  him  again  ?  This  was 
her  sole  and  only  thought,  as  she  sank  down  where  she 
was,  and'saw  the  blue  sky,  and  trees,  and  fields  fade  into 
indistinctness,  and  then  go  out  in  utter  darkness.  When 
she  returned  to  consciousness  and  opened  her  eyes,  Ca?sar, 
who  had  crept  close  beside  her,  whined  and  wagged  his 
tail,  arid  looked  out  of  his  great  black  eyes  as  sympathet 
ically  as  if  he  understood  all  her  trouble. 
1 


74  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"Oh,  Crcsar  !"  she  cried,  with  a  burst  of  tears,  as  the 
recollection  of  what  had  happened  came  back  with  sud 
den  vividness,  "  he  has  gone,  and  I  shall  never  see  him 
again  !" 

Then,  as  if  Ciesar  were  the  only  friend  left  to  her  in 
this  cruel  world,  she  threw  her  arms  around  him,  laid  her 
head  upon  his  huge  neck,  and  wept  out  her  sorrow  there. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WHO  AND  WHAT  WAS  HE? 

"VTICHOLAS  GllUXDLE  had  been  a  pleased  spectator 
±\  of  what  had  occurred  at  the  willow  copse,  for  im 
mediately  after  Emily  had  left  the  cottage,  on  her  way  to 
the  brook,  on  the  apparent  errand  of  taking  the  cow  to 
water,  he  had  hastened  to  the  barn  with  a  cunning  smile 
on  his  wrinkled  face.  Strange,  indeed,  was  it  that,  so  late 
in  his  life,  he  had  learned — and  learned  it,  too,  where  least 
expected — that  Love  teaches  cunning  to  Innocence.  As 
cending  the  ladder  with  a  more  agile  step  than  usual,  he 
struggled  through  the  hay,  which  threatened  to  stifle  him 
with  its  cloud  of  dust  and  seeds,  and  placed  himself  be 
side  a  large  chink  in  the  boards,  where  he  commanded  a 
full  view  of  the  brook  and  its  surroundings. 

"So  she  still  thinks  she  can  deceive  me,  does  she?"  he 
muttered,  pressing  his  eves  close  to  the  aperture,  and  cov 
ering  with  his  vision  her  retreating  form.  "She  is  going 
to  meet  him  now — I  can  tell  it  by  her  walk.  See,  she 
turns  around,  and  casts  her  eyes  back,  to  see  if  I  am 
watching  her.  Ah,  she  is  a  child  no  longer  !  She  is  a 
woman,  and  learning  deception  fast ;  and  he  has  taught 
her.  How  blind  I  have  been  not  sooner  to  see  the  change 
which  has  come  over  her !  And  yet,  what  change  has 
there  been  in  the  child  ?  Xone  to  me,  at  least — -just  as 
obedient,  and  docile,  and  loving,  as  ever.  Have  I  not 
her  promise,  given  this  morning,  that,  when  next  she 
meets  him,  she  will  tell  him  he  must  wait  four  years,  and 
that  she  has  agreed  with  me  to  see  the  man  of  mv  choice 


WHO  AND  WHAT  WAS  HE?  75 

before  she  marries  this  fellow,  who  will  never  be  able,  of 
his  own  means,  to  marry  ?  Yes,  she  may  meet  him  in 
secret  this  morning,  as  she  thinks  she  will  ;  but  I  know 
she  will  be  true  to  her  promise  to  me — " 

He  stopped  short  in  his  soliloquy,  for  the  movements 
of  the  girl  now  absorbed  his  attention.  She  had  watered 
the  cow,  and,  tethering  the  animal  to  a  sapling  that  grew 
close  beside  the  stream,  she  had  herself  gone,  with  the 
dog,  into  the  little  inclosure,  where  she  seated  herself  upon 
the  log,  and  Caesar  gamboled  around  her. 

"She  is  thinking  of  him  now/'  resumed  the  old  man, 
noticing  her  quiet  attitude,  her  head  resting  between  her 
two  hands,  and  her  eyes  bent  upon  the  ground.  "  She 
little  knows  how  angry  he  will  be  when  she  tells  him  what 
she  hfft  promised  me.  He  will  quarrel  with  her — I  am 
sure  of  that.  He  will  upbraid  her,  and  charge  her  with 
deceiving  him  ;  and  she — why,  she  will  be  frightened  and 
lose  her  tongue,  and  he  will  take  her  silence  for  guilt. 
Just  what  I  want !  Ah,  young  man,  she  may  love  you, 
and  you  her,  but  I  can  see  how  well  my  plan  wTill  work  to 
separate  you,  for  a  time  at  least ;  and,  before  you  can  come 
together  again,  we  shall  be  in  another  part  of  the  country. 
Ha,  ha,  Nicholas  Grundle  !  You  are  as  cunning  as  ever !" 

He  broke  out  into  such  a  merry  laugh,  with  his  shrill, 
cackling  voice,  that  a  bat  overhead  was  roused  from  his 
sleep,  and  darted  on  swift  wing  around  the  barn,  rapidly 
circling  here  and  there,  as  if  some  evil  spirit  were  pursu 
ing  him,  until  he  disappeared  through  the  door. 

"A  good  omen!"  said  Grundle,  gleefully  rubbing  his 
hands  as  the  bat  flew  away.  "It  tells  me  that  fellow  will 
leave  Emily  as  quickly."  « 

He  looked  again  in  the  direction  of  the  brook,  and  his 
countenance  on  the  instant  was  fixed  in  rapt  and  breath 
less  attention.  The  lovers  had  met.  He  saw  how  they 
greeted  each  other,  and  every  subsequent  motion  of  their 
bodies  was  as  intelligible  to  him  as  if  he  had  heard  their 
conversation. 

"Yes,  he  is  angry  with  her!"  muttered  Grundle,  satis 
faction  deepening  on  his  eager  face.  "  See  !  he  shakes  his 
head  and  moves  away  from  her.  She  tries  to  pacify  him, 
and  she  puts  her  hand  on  his  arm,  but  he  does  not  turn  to 


76  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

her.  There!  he  speaks  in  anger.  I  can  see  it,  for  she 
has  started  away  from  him.  Ah,  lie  kisses  her,  and  then 
darts  away  out  of  sight!  It's  a  quarrel,  and  a  good  one. 
It  will  last  long  enough  for  my  purposes  !" 

After  waiting  a  few  moments  to  see  whether  the  lover 
would  return,  Nicholas  Grundle,  congratulating  himself 
with  many  a  chuckle  and  rubbing  of  his  hands,  left  his 
outlook,  descended  the  ladder,  and  made  his  way  to  the 
cottage.  As  he  came  round  to  the  front  of  the  house,  he 
found  sitting  upon  the  door-step,  with  a  valise  at  his  side, 
a  tall  man,  who  arose  as  he  approached  and  extended  his 
hand. 

"  Nicholas  Grundle,  I  believe,"  he  said,  advancing  to 
where  the  other  had  suddenly  halted  with  that  defensive 
air  with  which  he  always  met  strangers. 

"What  business  have  you  with  me?"  asked  Grundle, 
refusing  the  proffered  hand,  his  lowering  brows  half  con 
cealing  his  penetrating  look,  which  was  rapidly  scanning 
his  companion  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Do  you  never  receive  any  calls  except  those  upon  busi 
ness?"  asked  the  other,  with  a  light  laugh,  as  he  stroked 
his  moustache  with  a  fair  hand,  on  the  linger  of  which 
glittered  in  the  sunlight  a  coiled  serpent  with  ruby  eyes. 

"Have  you  any  business  with  me?"  persisted  Grundle, 
with  an  impatient  fling  of  his  head.  "  If  so,  come  to  it 
at  once." 

"You  are  a  very  impatient  man,  I  should  say,"  replied 
the  stranger,  with  a  smile  and  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 
"  Perhaps  you  will  not  object  to  my  lighting  a  cigar  be 
fore  we  proceed  to  business,  if  business  indeed  has  brought 
«ne  here?  Will  you  take  one?"  extending  his  cigar-case, 
as  he  arose  and  drew  a  match  upon  the  jamb  of  the  door. 

"  I  never  smoke ;  I  leave  that  to  those  who  can  afford 
to  waste  their  money." 

"  You  look  as  if  you  did  not  take  much  stock  in  the 
pleasures  of  this  world,"  laughed  the  visitor,  resuming 
his  seat,  and  puffing  forth  a  cloud  of  smoke,  which  a 
chance  wind  blew  in  Grundle's  face.  "  I  beg  pardon  ; 
that  impoliteness  is  due  to  the  wind.  Perhaps  you  do 
not  object  to  smelling  a  good  cigar?" 

The  cool  impudence  of  the  stranger  had  the  very  effect 


WHO  AND  WHAT  WAS  HE?  77 

he  desired.  It  disconcerted  the  old  man,  and  he  stood 
irresolute  as  to  what  course  he  should  pursue  to  rid  him 
self  of  so  bold  and  obstinate  a  visitor.  Moreover,  his 
curiosity  had  now  been  excited  as  to  the  object  of  this 
man's  presence,  and  he  found  himself  secretly  wondering 
what  it  was  that  had  led  him  to  this  place.  Besides,  the 
man  was  showing  a  disposition  similar  to  his  own,  and 
that  rather  attracted  him — so  much  so  indeed  that  his  first 
anger  at  this  intrusion  upon  his  privacy  was  gradually 
subsiding. 

"  You  are  wondering,"  resumed  the  stranger  j  again 
stroking  his  moustache  with  the  hand  that  bore  the  ser 
pent  ring,  "  what  I,  a  man  whom  you  never  saw  before, 
have  to  do  with  you.  Suppose  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I 
have  it  in  my  power  to  make  a  fortune  for  you — that  I 
could  enable  you  to  rise  from  the  poverty  of  these  sur 
roundings  to  a  position  of  wealth  ?  If  I  could  do  this, 
you  would  look  upon  me  as  a  friend,  would  you  not?" 

"  If  you  did  it,  I  should,"  said  Grundle,  keeping  back 
all  evidence  of  the  intense  curiosity  the  words  just  spoken 
had  aroused. 

"  Yes  ;  so  would  any  one.  And  you  are  human,  after 
all !  Egad,  I  took  you  for  a  bear  when  you  came  around 
the  corner  a  moment  ago  !" 

And  he  laughed,  lightly  stroking  his  moustache,  with 
the  ring  again  in  view.  Whether  purposely  on  the  part 
of  the  exhibitor  or  not,  the  ring  attracted  Nicholas  Grun- 
dle's  attention.  His  eyes  were  now  fixed  upon  it  with  a 
questioning,  puzzled  look,  as  the  hand  of  the  man  lay  at 
rest  on  his  knee,  the  little  head  of  the  serpent  poised  over 
his  knuckle. 

"Yes,  it  is  an  odd  ring,"  said  the  man,  slightly  raising 
his  finger  and  regarding  the  jewel  with  admiration  ;  "  but 
it  is  the  luckiest  ring  that  was  ever  made.  Would  you 
believe  that  this  ring,"  holding  it  up  so  that  the  old  man, 
who  had  advanced  a  pace  or  two,  could  see  it  more  dis 
tinctly,  "  has  brought  luck  to  three  generations  of  my 
family  ?  But  perhaps  you  are  not  superstitious  and  do 
not  believe  in  such  things." 

Yet,  as  he  spoke,  he  saw  the  expression  of  awe  that 
was  deepening  on  Nicholas  Grundle's  face. 


78  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

"I  have  heard  of  such  things,"  sakl  Grundle,  still  ex 
amining  the  jewel  closely,  though  he  did  not  touch  it,  nor 
the  hand  that  wore  it. 

"  I  once  refused  nearly  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  that 
ring,"  resumed  the  other,  puffing  away  at  his  cigar  with 
an  indifferent  air. 

"  Fifty  thousand  dollars  !"  exclaimed  Grundle,  under 
his  breath,  his  eyes  fastening  with  a  quick,  covetous  gaze 
upon  the  jewel. 

"  But  I  did  not  take  it.  Yet — would  you  believe  it  ? — 
the  man  who  offered  the  sum  came  near  getting  the  ring 
for  nothing." 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Grundle,  his  voice  low  and 
agitated,  and  his  eyes  now  fixed  as  immovably  upon  the 
ring  as  if  it  were  a  veritable  serpent,  and  had  charmed 
him  with  a  deadly  power  of  fascination. 

"  It's  a  short  story,  and  hardly  worth  the  telling,  though 
it  may  interest  you.  A  certain  British  lord  was  a  few 
years  ago  a  very  intimate  friend  of  mine,  and  of  course  in 
time  learned  from  me  the  history  and  secret  power  of  this 
ring.  He  squandered  a  great  deal  of  his  money  in  riotous 
living,  and  lost' more  by  gambling  and  betting  on  horses. 
It  finally  came  to  pass  that  at  one  of  the  Derbys  he  lost 
the  remainder  of  his  fortune  except  about  fifty  thousand 
dollars.  The  day  after  the  Derby  I  received  a  note  from 
him  to  come  to  his  chateau  without  delay.  I  did  so, 
and  found  him  in  great  excitement.  He  had  sent  away 
his  servants  and  family  to  London,  and  was  alone  in  his 
house.  Immediately  upon  my  arrival  he  led  me  directly 
to  his  library,  and  hardly  had  we  entered  the  room  before 
he  closed  the  door,  and,  locking  it,  threw  the  key  out  of 
the  window.  Then  he  turned  to  me  and,  without  parley 
or  explanation,  demanded  that  I  should  sell  him  this  ring 
for  a  draft  on  the  Bank  of  England  for  ten  thousand 
pounds.  Of  course  I  refused  his  offer,  but  before  I  could 
give  my  reasons  for  so  doing,  he  had  seized  me  by  the 
throat,  and  in  the  next  instant  I  felt  the  cold  muzzle  of  a 
pistol  against  my  forehead.  How  it  happened  I  cannot 
tell,  but  as  we  struggled  in  each  other's  grasp,  and  I  had 
given  up  my  life — for  he  had  thrown  me  to  the  floor,  and 
was  holdinc;  me  fast  beneath  him — the  head  of  this 


WHO  AND  WHAT  WAS  HE?  78 

caught  the  trigger  of  his  weapon,  exploding  the  charge, 
and  laying  him  a  corpse  at  my  feet,  the  ball  penetrating 
the  exact  point  in  his  forehead  where  he  had  held  the  pis 
tol  to  mine.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  easily  made  my 
exit  from  the  house  through  the  window,  and  the  next 
day  sailed  for  America.  I  learned,  upon  my  arrival  here, 
that  my  lord  had  been  buried  as  a  suicide,  who  had  taken 
his  life  because  of  his  financial  troubles.  It's  a  strange 
story,  isn't  it  ?  Sounds  like  a  romance,  yet  I  can  assure 
you  this  ring  has  saved  my  life  many  times,  in  scenes  al 
most,  as  perilous  as  this  I  have  just  described.  But, 
pshaw  !"  with  a  nonchalant  wave  of  his  hand,  "  I  must 
stop  talking  about  my  ring,  or  I  shall  waste  the  whole 
morning,  and  profit  neither  you  nor  myself.  To  come  at 
once  t*>  the  object  of  my  calling  on  you,  would  you  be 
willing  to  tell  me  how  many  acres  of  land  you  own  around 
here  ?" 

"About  forty,"  replied  Nicholas  Grundle,  after  a  slight 
pause,  in  which  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  talk  further 
with  this  man,  for  he  was  a  lucky  one  and  might  bring 
him  fortune,  as  well  as  he  had  brought  it  to  himself 
with  his  wonderful  ring. 

"  Would  you  sell  ?" 

"  Yes ;  if  I  should  get  my  price." 

"  What  is  your  price?" 

"Five  hundred  dollars  an  acre,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Whew  !"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  blowing  out  a  huge 
cloud  of  smoke,  and  waving  it  away  with  his  hand. 
"  Isn't  that  a  very  high  figure  ?" 

"  It  may  be  to  the  buyer,  but  not  to  the  seller,"  said 
Grundle,  concealing  the  agitation  which  the  naming  of 
such  an  exorbitant  price  had  roused  even  in  himself. 
"  Still  I  am  not  a  man  to  higgle  for  the  last  dollar  in  a 
bargain.  Look  around  for  yourself,  and  tell  me  what  you 
would  give  for  it." 

The  man  arose,  and,  stepping  a  few  paces  from  the 
house,  began  to  take  a  survey  of  the  little  farm,  directing 
his  gaze  to  the  different  fields  and  boundaries,  as  Nicholas 
Grundle,  trying  to  appear  calmer,  pointed  them  out,  and 
expatiated  upon  the  various  excellences  of  the  soil,  and 
the  beauty  of  the  prospect  and  situation. 


80  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"You  will  not  find  a  better  farm  of  its  size  in  this  part 
of  the  country,"  said  Grundle,  as  the  stranger  turned  on 
his  heel  and  went  back  to  his  seat.  "  It's  worth  all 
I  ask;  but,  for  cash  down,  I  might  take  less,  though 
not  much." 

As  he  was  speaking,  Ca?sar  came  trotting  around  the 
corner  of  the  house,  and  immediately  following  him  was 
Emily,  her  eyes  cast  down,  and  slowly  swinging  to  and 
fro  her  hood,  which  she  held  by  its  strings.  Her  hair 
had  fallen  loosely  about  her  flushed  face,  and  her  whole 
manner  was  one  of  deep  dejection.  The  stranger  first 
saw  her,  and  quickly  rose  to  his  feet,  and  none  the  less 
quickly  came  the  look  of  admiration  on  his  face  as  his 
eyes  took  in  the  figure  before  him  ;  for  she,  too,  had  now 
looked  up,  and,  startled  by  the  sight  of  the  strange  man, 
had  drawn  back  with  a  little  cry  of  surprise,  and,  ca^ch- 
ing  with  her  hand  one  side  of  her  disheveled  hair,  she 
drew  it  back  from  her  blooming  cheek,  and  stood  with 
timid,  irresolute  attitude,  half  frightened,  yet  half  assured, 
for  now  she  wa.s  looking  at  her  father. 

"  Go  into  the  house,  my  child,"  he  said,  now  turning  in 
the  direction  whence  she  had  come.  "This  gentleman 
and  I  have  business  together,  and  when  it  is  done  I  will 
come  in  to  you.  And  here,  Casar,"  speaking  to  the  dog, 
who  was  surveying  the  stranger  with  a  low  growl  of 
displeasure,  "go  with  your  mistress;  we  can  spare  you, 
too." 

But  the  animal,  instead  of  obeying  this  command,  began 
to  give  even  greater  marks  of  his  disapprobation  of  the 
visitor's  presence.  He  was  now  showing  his  teeth,  and 
had  planted  himself  firmly  in  the  man's  front,  and,  half 
crouched,  was  lashing  his  tail  upon  the  ground,  and  evi 
dently  preparing  to  spring  at  the  stranger,  who,  recoiling 
from  the  beast,  cried  out  to  Nicholas  Grundle  to  call  him 
away.  The  old  man  caught  the  dog  by  the  neck,  but  Cjesar 
paid  no  attention  to  this  interruption  of  his  design,  and, 
flinging  off  his  master's  hand,  was  about  to  rush  upon  the 
other,  when  Emily's  voice  checked  him,  and  in  answer  to 
her  second  call  he  turned  away,  with  a  deeper  growl  than 
ever,  and  disappeared  with  his  mistress. 

"  Egad,  that  dog  found  little  to  fancy  in  me,"  said  th:; 


WHO  AND  WHAT  WAS  HE?  81 

man,  trying  to  treat  the  affair  lightly,  though  his  face  was 
pale,  and  the  perspiration  stood  out  on  his  temples.  "  It 
is  strange  that  he  should  take  such  a  sudden  dislike  to  me 
— ior  I  love  dogs,  and  dogs  are  always  friendly  to  me." 

"He  always  acts  that  way  toward  strangers,"  said 
Grundle;  "and,  as  I  have  taught  him  to  do  so,  I  am 
to  blame  for  his  savage  reception  of  you.  It  was  lucky 
for  you  that  the  girl  was  near,  or  he  would  have  done 
you  harm.  I  never  saw  him  so  persistent  before ;  and 
did  you  notice  how  he  shook  me  off  when  I  tried  to 
pull  him  away?" 

"  He  is  a  vicious  dog,"  said  the  stranger.  "  I  would 
not  want  to  meet  him  on  the  road  at  night.  The  girl — 
Emily,  I  believe  you  call  her — seems  to  have  him  under 
perfect"  don  trol.  Your  granddaughter,  I  presume?" 

"  That  question  has  often  been  asked  me,"  replied 
Grundle,  suddenly  taking  on  his  look  and  air  of  reserve, 
"  but  I  never  answer  it.  It's  enough  for  people  to  know 
that  she  lives  with  me." 

"Well,  this  is  odd,"  resumed  the  man,  lighting  another 
cigar.  "A  beautiful  girl — sixteen,  I  should  judge — liv 
ing  with  a  man  of  your  appearance  and  age,  and  you  not 
willing  to  tell  her  relationship  to  you  !  That  is  a  mystery  ! 
And  she  such  a  beauty  !  I  drank  it  all  in  at  a  glance — 
slight  form,  golden,  fluffy  hair,  and  great,  earnest  blue 
eyes !" 

"She  is  very  pretty,"  said  Grundle,  pleased  at  the  ex 
cited  admiration  of  the  man  ;  "and  she  is  as  good  as  she 
is  handsome." 

"  A  rare  combination  in  this  world,"  rejoined  the  other, 
with  a  trifle  of  seriousness  in  his  voice.  "Egad,  I  would 
give  a  small  fortune  to  know  more  of  such  a  woman. 
Perfectly  beautiful  and  thoroughly  good  !  Well,  if  she 
went  with  the  farm,  I  would  give  you  a  thousand  dollars 
an  acre  for  it.  But  I  suppose  her  heart  is  already  pledged 
to  some  of  these  country  bumpkins  around  here — though, 
unless  I  mistake  your  character,  you  have  been  shrewd 
enough  to  prevent  such  a  misfortune.  Why,  do  you 
know,"  rising,  and  laying  the  hand  with  the  ring  on  the 
old  man's  shoulder,  and  dropping  his  voice  into  a  confi 
dential  whisper,  "  that,  if  she  were  a  daughter  or  relation 

F 


82  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

of  mine,  she  should  buy  both  fortune  and  position  with 
that  face  ?'" 

"So  she  shall — so  she  shall!"  replied  the  other,  with 
more  energy  than  he  had  yet  displayed  in  his  conversation. 
"  You  have  not  read  me  wrongly.  I  have  not  got  these 
white  hairs  for  nothing  !"  and  a  shrewd  smile  played  over 
his  face  as  he  spoke. 

"  Well,"  said  the  stranger,  turning  abruptly  and  taking 
up  his  valise,  "  I  have  stayed  here  longer  than  I  intended. 
I  must  hurry  on  to  the  village  to  meet  a  party  with  whom 
I  have  an  engagement  at  noon.  I  will  try  and  see  you 
again.  Let  me  see  !"  taking  out  his  memorandum-book 
and  making  notes.  "Nicholas  Grundle,  I  believe — farm 
about  forty  acres — five  hundred  dollars  an  acre — or  some 
thing  less,  for  all  cash  down." 

"  Can't  you  give  me  an  answer  now  ?"  asked  Grundle, 
betraying  in  his  voice  and  face  the  anxiety  he  strove  to 
conceal.  "  I  like  off-hand  bargains ;  they  save  trouble 
and  time.  If  you  say  the  word,  I'll  take  four  hundred 
and  seventy-five  dollars  an  acre  in  cash." 

"That's  hardly  as  generous  a  concession  as  my  parties 
would  expect.  You  see,  my  friend,  I  am  looking  around 
for  others.  But,"  with  a  knowing  shake  of  the  head,  and 
laving  his  hand  with  a  friendly  gesture  on  the  other's 
shoulder,  "  I  am  a  friend  to  the  old  and  the  young. 
You  and  that  beautiful  girl  shall  find  that  I  have  worked 
for  your  interests  in  this  matter.  All  I  ask  is  that  this 
visit  and  interview,  and  any  others  we  may  have,  shall  be 
a  profound  secret  between  us.  Y"ou  understand  ?" 

"  Perfectly  !"  said  Grundle,  his  face  beaming  with  an 
eager,  covetous  smile.  "  I  know  the  value  of  a  silent 
tongue." 

"  It's  a  fortune  often  to  the  possessor,"  laughed  the 
other.  "  "ttut,  pardon  me,  would  you  object  to  taking 
charge  of  this  valise  for  me  till  I  return  from  the  village 
— say  till  after  sundown  ?  for  I  don't  expect  to  be  through 
my  business  there  before  that  time.  It's  quite  heavy,  and 
has  sufficiently  tested  my  endurance  this  morning." 

"Of  course  I  will  take  care  of  it,"  said  Grundle, 
receiving  it  from  the  other  and  almost  dropping  it  upon 
the  ground,  so  unexpected  was  its  heavy  weight.  "  It  is 


THE  VALISE  AND  THE  LOCKET.  83 

heavy,  as  you  say,"  holding  it  now  with  both  hands,  but 
not  without  considerable  exertion. 

"  Let  me  carry  it  into  the  house  for  you,"  offered  the 
man.  "  We  will  just  set  it  behind  the  door.  It  will  be 
safe  enough  there." 

"  No ;  I  can  manage  it,"  quickly  replied  Grundle, 
drawing  back  from  the  other's  proffered  assistance. 

"  Well,  just  as  you  say,  though  I  would  prefer  not  to 
put  you  to  so  much  trouble ;  and  now  I  bid  you  good- 
morning  !"  raising  his  hat,  and  going  rapidly  down  the 
walk  into  the  main  road,  along  which  he  hurried,  not 
once  looking  back. 

Nicholas  Grundle  set  the  valise  down  upon  the  ground 
and  gazed  upon  it  with  very  curious  eyes.  It  was  the 
heaviest  and  oddest  valise  he  had  ever  seen. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  VALISE  AND  THE  LOCKET. 

IT  was  indeed  an  odd-looking  valise  that  the  stranger 
had  left  in  charge  of  Nicholas  Grundle.  No  wonder 
the  old  man  examined  it  so  curiously,  and  was  so  excited 
as  to  what  might  be  its  contents.  It  was  of  medium  size, 
and  evidently  of  thin  sheet  iron,  with  flat  sides  and  square 
corners,  bound  with  dull  steel  bands.  It  had  three  locks 
— one  a  padlock,  that  secured  a  steel  band  which  passed 
entirely  around  the  valise ;  the  other  two  were  sunken 
locks,  in  the  upper  rims  of  the  valise,  where  the  sides 
joined  when  it  was  shut. 

Nicholas  Grundle,  first  assuring  himself  that  the 
stranger  was  out  of  sight,  now  knelt  down  and  care 
fully  examined  every  inch  of  this  curious  affair.  As  he 
at  last,  in  his  inspection,  turned  it  over  so  that  the  bottom 
was  visible,  he  saw  the  three  letters  "  J.  L.  A.,"  which  had 
every  appearance  of  having  been  there  a  long  time,  and 
the  valise  itself  bore  other  evidences  of  age.  Nor  did  the 
mystery  of  the  contents  of  this  strange  valise  less  excite 


84  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

the  curiosity  of  the  old  man.  He  now  found  himself 
wondering  what  they  were,  and  longing  to  know  them, 
far  beyond  any  adequate  expression  to  his  desire  in 
thoughts  or  words.  This  much,  anyhow,  he  felt  sure 
of — it  was  certainly  made  for  valuables.  No  man  would 
carry  around  with  him  such  a  heavy  and  securely-locked 
box,  unless  he  wished  to  take  great  care  of  what  was  in 
it. 

What  was  in  it?  That  was  the  question  which  Nich 
olas  Grundle  asked  himself  many  times  as  he  shook  the 
valise  from  side  to  side,  then  turned  it  upside  down  and 
stood  it  on  either  end,  and  still  heard  no  sound  within  it 
— not  the  faintest  thud  or  rattle.  Could  it  be  full  of  gold, 
packed  in  so  tightly  it  could  not  stir?  This  question 
startled  him,  almost  taking  away  his  breath.  A  box  full 
of  gold  ;  and  if  gold,  how  much  was  there  here?  How 
quickly  his  eye  took  in  the  height,  length  and  width  of 
the  box  !  Springing  up,  he  weighed  it  again  in  his  hands. 
How  marvelously  rapid  was  his  power  of  calculation  !  It 
must  weigh  some  seventy-odd  pounds.  Full  of  gold  ! 
Why,  such  a  box  would  hold  full  twenty  thousand  dol 
lars,  and  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  gold  would  be 
seventy-odd  pounds  in  weight.  Twenty  thousand  dol 
lars  !  His  heart  thrilled  with  a  tumultuous  beating. 
With  his  hands  tightly  clasped,  he  leaned  over  the 
valise,  and  his  eyes  feasted  upon  it  with  a  devouring 
ga/e.  If  it  were  only  his — his  to  see,  to  touch,  to  han 
dle,  to  keep,  to  hide  away  in  yonder  cellar !  And  what 
a  pleasure  it  was  to  be  near  so  much  money,  even  if  it 
were  not  his  own  !  How  it  stirred  his  blood,  and  quick 
ened  his  pulse,  and  made  his  eyes  sparkle  !  Throughout 
his  shrunken  frame  there  now  glowed  a  new  vigor,  that 
made  him  feel  strong  enough  to  carry  this  weight  a  whole 
day,  if  such  a  task  could  only  give  him  the  ownership  of 
its  precious  reality.  He  might  have  knelt  there  much 
longer,  worshiping  this  treasure-box,  had  not  Emily 
opened  the  door  and  called  to  him  : 

"  Father,  what  is  it  ?  Shall  I  come  out  and  help  you 
carry  it?" 

Banishing  all  evidence  of  excitement  in  his  face,  he 
quickly  rose  to  his  feet,  and  lifted  the  valise  as  lightly  as 


THE  VALISE  AND   THE  LOCKET.  85 

if  it  had  been  an  ordinary  burden,  and  carried  it  into 
the  house.  He  placed  it  in  a  corner  near  the  closed 
door,  and  threw  a  strip  of  old  carpet,  which  had  been 
doing  the  service  of  a  mat,  over  it.  Then  he  turned  to 
the  girl,  and  said : 

"  It's  only  a  traveling-bag  left  in  our  care  for  a  little 
while  by  that  gentleman  you  saw  talking  to  me."  Then, 
affecting  surprise  at  the  sorrow  on  her  face,  and  the  eyes 
which  still  bore  the  traces  of  tears,  he  continued  :  "  What ! 
my  child  has  been  crying  ?  Come  let  us  sit  down,"  kiss 
ing  her  in  his  old  tender  way.  "  Tell  your  father  what 
has  grieved  you !" 

He  led  her  to  the  stool  beside  his  chair,  and  she  sank 
into  it  with  a  little  burst  of  tears,  which  she  tried  to  hide 
with  hcV  hands  clasped  upon  her  face.  He  hesitated  a 
moment  before  seating  himself,  turned  warily  around,  and 
shot  a  sharp  glance  toward  the  corner  where  the  strong 
box  was.  Then  he  crossed  the  room  again,  and  hung  his 
hat  on  a  peg  in  the  wall,  over  the  valise;  and,  as  he  came 
and  went,  his  eyes  seemed  loth  to  look  anywhere  else,  save 
at  that  corner  with  the  treasure,  which  he  was  sure  was 
burning  with  a  golden  glow  beneath  the  carpet  covering. 
Now  trying,  though  with  little  success,  to  banish  for  the 
moment  all  thought  of  that  pile  of  gold,  and  to  keep  his 
eyes  from  seeking  that  corner,  he  took  her  hand  in  his, 
and  patted  it  in  silence;  and  this  token  of  his  affection — 
for  she  remembered  how  often  he  had  patted  her  hand  as 
he  looked  down  at  her,  with  his  face  all  aglow  with  love 
for  her — made  her  only  cry  the  more,  laying  her  head 
upon  his  knees,  around  which  she  threw  her  arms,  cling 
ing  so  closely  to  him  now;  for  who  else,  her  sad  heart 
asked,  cared  for  her  now  save  this  dear  old  father  ? 

"Poor  child!"  he  murmured,  stroking  her  hair.  "I 
know  what  you  would  tell  me.  You  have  seen  him  this 
morning,  and  he  has  wounded  your  sensitive  heart.  There, 
don't  cry  !  He  is  not  worth  crying  for.  I  knew  he  would 
soon  show  how  little  real  love  he  has  for  you.  Boys' 
loves,  like  their  kites,  never  sail  long  in  the  same  di 
rection." 

"  Oh,  father,  he  does  not  care  for  me  any  more !  He 
has  gone  away  angry ;  I  shall  never  see  him  again  !" 


86  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

This  slie  Availed  out  in  a  broken,  smothered  voice,  her 
face  still  buried  on  his  knee.  He  waited  a  while  until  she 
grew  a  trifle  calmer,  and  strange  it  seemed  to  him  that, 
while  he  waited,  his  eyes  would  glance  behind  him  at  the 
corner  where  the  valise  was.  Once  he  thought  it  stirred. 
This  suggestion  startled  him,  and  made  his  heart  give 
a  great  thump.  He  cast  a  half-frightened,  keener  look 
over  his  shoulder.  No,  it  had  not  moved.  It  was  only 
one  corner  of  the  carpet  that  had  fallen  away  from  it. 
He  could  not  help  noticing  how  sharply  the  dog  was 
watching  this  corner,  stretched  at  full  length  in  front  of 
the  valise,  his  head  resting  between  his  paws.  How  odd, 
it  struck  him,  was  the  fascination  this  corner  had  for  both 
himself  and  Ccesar !  He  turned  again  to  the  girl,  whose 
grief  had  subsided  into  a  gentle  sobbing,  broken  now  and 
then  with  a  sigh. 

"Never  mind,  child,"  he  said,  soothingly;  "you  are 
not  to  blame  for  what  has  happened,  and  that  ought  to  be 
a  great  consolation  to  you.  You  only  told  him  what  your 
father  had  a  right  to  ask  you  to  say  to  him,  and  he  was 
angry  with  you  for  it — angry  because  you  obeyed  your 
poor  old  father,  who  has  sacrificed  his  whole  life  for  you. 
He  ought  to  have  loved  you  the  more,  for  true  love  al 
ways  grows  the  stronger  when  it  discovers  some  new  qual 
ity  of  good  in  the  object  it  adores.  What  nobler  quality 
than  obedience  can  a  child  show  forth?" 

"Do  you  think  he  will  ever  love  me. again?"  she  asked, 
turning  up  now,  for  the  first  time,  her  despairing,  tearful 
face  to  him. 

"Yes,  perhaps,"  he  answered,  with  an  odd  smile,  "if 
you  will  let  him  see  that  you  do  not  care  so  much  for  him 
as  he  imagines.  A  man  is  always  the  more  eager  to  love 
when  the  task  of  conquest  is  made  the  harder  for  him." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said,  her  face,  as 
he  was  speaking,  growing  more  and  more  puz/led,  and 
yet  not  so  much  so  as  to  smother  the  gleam  of  hope  that 
was  struggling  to  maintain  itself  in  her  eyes. 

"  Then  I  will  explain  to  you.  But  first  I  must  know 
a  little  more  about  this  young  man,  and  your  promises 
and  pledges  to  him.  You  told  me,  this  morning,  how 
and  where  you  met  him  without  my  knowledge.  I  for- 


THE  VALISE  AND   THE  LOCKET.  87 

give  you  that  deception,  child;  for  I  am  sure  it  was  not  of 
your  inclination,  suggestion  or  invention.  What  I  want 
now  to  know  is,  has  he  given  you  any  token  of  his  so- 
called  love,  any  little  keepsake,  any — " 

He  stopped  short,  for  he  .saw  her  hand  suddenly  seek, 
with  a  startled  motion,  her  bosom,  and  he  knew  that 
there  was  hidden  the  very  thing  he  sought  to  discover. 
She  hesitated,  but  only  an  instant;  then,  with  a  diffidence 
that  was  as  charming  as  the  deep  blush  of  embarrassment 
that  suffused  her  cheeks  and  caused  hqr  head  to  droop,  she 
slowly  drew  forth  a  little  golden  locket,  and  placed  it 
without  a  word — only  a  sigh — in  his  outstretched  hand. 

"Is  this  all  he  has  given  you?"  he  asked,  turning  over 
the  locket,  and  examining  it  so  closely  as  to  detect  their 
initials^  interwoven  across  the  faces  of  two  impinging 
hearts. 

"  That  is  all,"  she  faintly  articulated,  still  abashed,  her 
head  drooping  and  her  fingers  nervously  interlacing  each 
other. 

"  When  did  he  give  you  this  ?" 

"  Day  before  yesterday,"  she  faltered  out,  with  a  fresh 
outburst  of  tears,  for  this  question  too  fully  suggested 
how  brief  a  time  had  elapsed  between  the  gift  and  what 
had  taken  place  this  morning  at  the  willow  copse. 

"So,  two  days  after  giving  you  this  very  touching 
emblem  of  his  affection,"  went  on  the  old  man,  with  no 
little  sarcasm  in  his  voice,  "he  acts  as  if  he  had  no 
love  for  you.  Ah,  my  child,  he  is  very  far  from  being 
worthy  of  you.  I  have  a  mind  to  throw  this  thing  into 
the  fire,"  he  said,  making  a  motion  as  if  to  do  so,  and  as 
suddenly  drawing  back  his  arm.  "  No ;  I  will  not.  It 
shall  serve  a  better  purpose,"  as  if  the  plan  had  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  :  "you  shall  send  it  back  to  him.  It  is 
not  right  that  you  should  keep  it  longer,  since  he  has 
treated  you  so.  Yes,  yes !  we  must  send  it  back  to  him. 
It  has  now  no  value  to  you,  and  he  can  sell  it  for  old 
gold,  or  keep  it  to  remind  himself  that  he  was  unjust 
and  cruel  to  you,  my  dear  child." 

She  knew  not  how  to  answer  him,  but  he  readily  com 
prehended  the  perplexity  and  distress  which  had  come  to 
her  face.  His  decision  that  she  must  send  back  the  locket 


AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

had  made  her  suddenly  conscious  how  much  she  valued 
it — how  in  it  were  centered  so  many  happy  thoughts,  so 
many  sweet  memories,  that  to  part  with  it  would  be  to 
part  with  even  the  remnant  of  happiness  that  its  possessor 
had  saved  from  the  wreck  of  the  morning. 

"  Please,  dear  father,  let  me  keep  it  a  little  while  ?"  she 
asked,  making  the  request  with  evident  effort,  for  she  did 
not  raise  her  eyes,  but,  putting  her  hands  with  a  pleading 
gesture  upon  his  arm,  her  averted  face  had  slowly  fallen 
upon  his  knee. 

"Poor,  innocent  child!"  he  said,  softly  resting  his  hand 
upon  her  head.  "  So  you  want  to  keep  this  locket  to 
always  remind  you  how  true  you  were  to  him,  and  how 
little  real  love  he  had  for  you  ?  What  pleasure  could  you 
have  in  remembering  anything  so  sad  ?" 

She  only  answered  him  as  before.  "  Please  let  me  keep 
it  a  little  while,  only  a  few  days,"  was  all  she  said. 

He  made  no  reply.  Slowly  closing  his  fingers  upon  the 
locket,  he  was  the  next  instant  plunged  in  deep  thought, 
as  though  he  were  solving  a  question  of  gravest  issue. 
Deeper  grew  the  wrinkles  on  his  face,  stronger  became  the 
lines  on  his  forehead,  and  lower  over  his  eyes  drooped  his 
heavy  brows,  until  his  pupils  looked  like  black  spots  peep 
ing  out  beneath  little  rifts  of  snow.  While  he  thought 
on,  his  eyes  more  than  once  sought  the  corner  where  the 
strong  box  lay,  covered,  in  front,  by  the  dog,  who  still  kept 
his  silent  watch  upon  it.  As  he  found  his  gaze  riveted  upon 
this  box,  he  began  to  acknowledge  to  himself  that  it  by 
some  means  had  worked  a  spell  upon  him.  He  could  not 
keep  his  eyes  away  from  it,  any  more  than  could  Csesar. 
What  was  the  object  of  its  strange  construction  ?  and  what 
did  it  contain  ?  were  crowding  out  all  other  thoughts  from 
his  mind — almost  this  very  one  of  the  disposition  of  the 
locket,  which  he  was  now  trying  to  decide.  If  he  only 
knew  what  was  in  that  valise  !  It  had  three  locks.  Were 
they  the  simple  locks  that  were  usually  found  on  trav 
eling-bags,  or  were  they  as  strange  and  complex  as  the 
bag  itself?  Could  they  be  picked?  He  had  picked 
many  locks  when  a  boy.  He  remembered  now,  with  a 
sudden  transport  of  joy,  that  smoothed  out  the  wrinkles 
and  furrows,  how  deftly  he  had  worked  with  a  bent  piece 


THE  VALISE  AND  THE  LOCKET.  89 

of  wire  on  the  locks  of  his  mother's  trunks  in  the  old 
garret  of  his  boyhood,  where  he  had  spent  many  a  mys 
terious  hour.  There  was  some  wire  in  the  box  in  the 
drawer  yonder.  Now,  if  he  were  only  alone  a  little  while 
with  that  valise !  But  the  girl — how  to  dispose  of  her  in 
the  mean  time  ?  To  this  question  the  valise  seemed  to 
whisper  back  the  answer:  Send  her  away.  Send  her 
away  !  Where  ?  And  the  locket  now  answered  as  quickly 
as  the  valise  had  done:  Send  her  with  me.  These  words, 
leaping  unbidden  into  his  consciousness,  were  a  revelation 
to  him.  He  opened  his  hand  slowly,  and  the  locket,  as  if 
with  a  subtle  influence,  carried  him  on  in  a  train  of  rea 
soning  which  could  have  but  one  result.  For  what  element 
of  danger  was  there  in  his  plan,  which  seemed  to  adjust 
itself 'db  harmoniously  to  the  wishes  he  had  in  view? 
Would  not  the  young  man's  mother  prove  an  invaluable 
aid  to  him  in  impressing  upon  this  child  how  hopeless  it 
was  for  her  to  think  of  regaining  her  son's  love  ?  Would 
she  not,  with  a  woman's  quick  wit,  poison  this  child 
against  her  son  ?  Certainly  she  would,  for  it  was  only 
yesterday  morning  that  a  woman,  passing  along  the  road 
in  front  of  the  cottage,  had  put  in  his  hands  a  letter  from 
this  young  man's  mother,  in  which  she  had  pleaded  with 
him,  Nicholas  Grundle,  to  do  all  he  could  to  break  off 
their  intercourse  and  put  an  end  to  their  love. 

"  My  child,  did  you  ever  see  Mrs.  Gagger  ?"  asked  the 
old  man,  turning  again  to  Emily,  as  she  sat  quietly  and  de 
jectedly  at  his  side,  her  hope  of  retaining  the  locket  grow 
ing  fainter  and  fainter  during  his  long  silence. 

"  No,  I  never  saw  her,"  the  name  forcing  a  faint  sigh 
from  her  lips. 

"  Well,  you  shall  see  her  this  morning,"  he  said,  slowly 
rising  from  his  chair  and  going  to  a  chest  of  drawers,  out 
of  which  he  took  a  piece  of  white  paper,  and  proceeded  to 
wrap  the  locket  in  it.  "Here,  my  child,  hide  this  in 
your  pocket.  Now  put  on  your  hood  and  throw  that 
shawl  about  you.  I  have  an  errand  for  yon.'' 

She  did  as  he  had  bidden  her,  and  yet  it  was  evident,  from 
the  simple  look  of  wonder  on  her  face,  that'  she  had  no 
idea  of  what  this  errand  might  be,  about  which  he  was  in 
such  haste.  He  took  her  hand  in  his  and  led  her  to  the 


90  'AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

back  door,  which  he  opened,  and  then  placed  her  at  his 
side  upon  the  threshold.  He  raised  his  hand  and  pointed 
across  the  distant  fields,  bathed  in  the  crisp,  clear  air  of 
the  late  autumnal  day. 

"  Do  you  see,  on  yonder  hill,  a  white  house  over  which 
the  sun  shines  brightly  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes;  that  is  where  Mrs.  Gagger  lives." 

As  she  answered  him,  her  heart  fluttered  with  a  faint 
apprehension  of  joy,  yet  not  without  distrust.  Could  it  be 
possible  her  father  was  going  to  send  her  there — a  place 
she  had  longed  to  visit  these  many  days?  But  what,  she 
asked  herself,  despite  the  self-approving  sense  of  beauty 
that  stole  across  her  mind,  if  she  should  see  his  mother, 
and  that  great  lady  should  not  be  pleased  with  her!  What 
hope  would  there  be  left  her  of  winning  back  him  who 
had  gone  away  in  anger,  and  to  whom  his  mother  would 
be  far  dearer  than  she  herself  was  now?  The  old  man 
felt  how  her  hand  trembled  in  his,  and  he  as  quickly 
divined  the  reason,  although  its  discovery  was  far  from 
apparent  in  his  next  question.  How  well  he  knew  this 
child !  And  why  not  ?  Was  she  not  the  result  of  his 
own  exclusive  training  and  influence? 

"You  will  not  be  afraid  to  go  and  see  her  for  me,  and 
carry  her  a  message?" 

"Why  should  I  be  afraid  of  her?"  she  asked,  with  sud 
den  earnestness,  noticing  the  serious  look  upon  his  face 
while  he  was  putting  this  question. 

"No  reason  for  it,  my  child,  that  I  know  of,  except  that 
it  will  be  the  first  time  you  ever  met  a  stranger  without 
me  by  your  side.  So  you  are  willing  to  go  alone?" 

"Yes,  with  Cresar,"  glancing  back  at  the  dog,  which 
still  lay  motionless  in  front  of  the  valise. 

"  Cresar  shall  go  with  you.  No  harm  can  come  to  you 
with  him.  Now  listen,  my  child,  for  you  must  repeat,  as 
nearly  as  you  can,  my  very  words  to  Mrs.  Gagger.  When 
you  meet  her,  you  must  courtesy,  and  say,  'Good-morning, 
madam,'  and  then  go  on  this  way,  without  waiting  for  her 
to  speak  :  '  Mrs.  Gagger,  my  father  has  sent  me  to  return 
this  locket' — placing  the  locket  in  her  hands  as  you  say 
the  words.  '  He  does  not  wish  me  to  keep  it,  under  the 
circumstances,  and  asks  you  to  give  it  back  to  your  son.' 


THE  VALISE  AND   THE  LOCKET.  91 

Having  said  this,  you  must  courtesy  again,  say  'Good- 
morning,  madam/  and  come  away  without  another  word. 
Can  you  remember  this  ?  Let  me  see  if  you  can.  Repeat 
what  I  have  said." 

She  did  so  in  a  trembling  voice,  but  with  so  many  mis 
takes  that  he  reproved  her  several  times  as  he  corrected 
them. 

"  I  see  you  do  not  understand  why  I  wish  you  to  do 
this,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head,  in  a  mysterious  way ; 
"  but  this  much  I  will  tell  you — that  the  young  man,  if 
he  love  you  at  all,  will  love  you  all  the  more  for  it.  It 
will  tell  him  that  you  do  not  hold  yourself  so  cheaply  as 
he  thinks,  and  that,  if  he  wants  your  love,  he  must  win 
it,  not  demand  it.  Trust  your  father,  my  child.  You 
have  oiily  once  deceived  me,  and  you  already  see  the  bad 
result.  Obey  me  now,  and'  you  may  win  back  the  love 
you  have  certainly  lost.  Not  my  love — for  that  you  have, 
and  always  shall  have — but  this  other  love,  to  gain  which 
you  have  both  deceived  and  disobeyed  me." 

She  could  not  understand  his  reasoning.  She  did  not 
even  try,  for  he  seemed  to  her  to  speak  in  riddles.  But 
she  knew,  from  the  determination  of  his  face,  that  she 
must  obey  him ;  and,  as  he  ceased  speaking,  a  strange 
passiveness  came  over  her — a  passiveness  not  of  her  own 
bidding  or  desire,  but  the  result  of  some  unseen  power 
which  seemed  to  work  from  without  her. 

With  a  covert  smile,  he  saw  the  look  of  resignation 
and  obedience  that  had  come  so  unwillingly  to  her  face ; 
but  as  quickly  changing  his  smile  into  a  wondrously  merry 
laugh,  he  said,  patting  her  on  the  head,  and  then  rubbing 
his  hands  together  in  continued  glee : 

"Aha,  my  child!  we  will  now  manage  it  all  for  the 
best.  You  shall  soon  see  how  right  your  father  is.  Come 
— lose  no  time;  and  you  had  better  go  by  the  fields.  The 
public  road  is  not  the  place  for  my  dear  child  to  travel. 
Here,  Caesar,"  calling  to  the  dog,  "come,  and  go  with 
your  mistress." 

The  dog  paid  not  the  slightest  heed  to  this  summons. 
He  did  not  raise  his  head,  nor  even  move  it  ever  so 
slightly  in  the  direction  of  the  old  man's  voice.  As  if 
he  had  indeed  turned  to  stone,  he  still  lay  at  full  length 


92  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

in  front  of  the  valise,  as  motionless  as  that  article  itself. 
Only  in  his  wide-open  gleaming  eyes  was  there  any  sign  of 
life.  Nicholas  Grundle  called  again,  more  sharply  than 
before,  and  seeing  the  animal  still  paid  no  heed  to  him,  he 
burst  into  a  passion  of  threatening  words.  Then,  seizing 
his  cane  and  furiously  shaking  it,  he  started  toward  the 
dog.  Emily  anticipated  his  intentions.  She  sprang 
swiftly  past  him,  and  catching  Ca?sar  by  the  collar,  cov 
ered  him  with  her  protecting  form. 

"  Do  not  strike  him !"  she  said,  in  a  voice  whose  tone 
of  warning  made  him  suddenly  halt;  and,  if  he  had 
needed  further  warning  to  control  himself,  he  saw  it 
now  in  the  attitude  of  the  dog,  who  had  sprung  from 
behind  his  mistress,  and,  but  for  her  restraining  hand 
upon  his  collar,  would  have  fastened  his  fangs  in  his 
adversary. 

"What  ails  the  brute?"  muttered  Grundle,  sidling 
away.  "  Is  he  going  mad  ?  I  have  a  mind  to  shoot 
him !" 

"  No,  no ;  he  is  not  to  blame !"  she  answered  quick 
ly,  patting  Ctesar  so  soothingly  that  he  turned  and 
licked  her  hand.  "There  was  something  about  that 
strange  man  he  did  not  like.  I  saw  that  from  the  mo 
ment  he  laid  eyes  on  him.  Because  he  knows  that  this 
valise  belongs  to  the  man — for  he  must  have  seen  it  on 
the  step  beside  him — is  the  reason  he  has  been  watching 
it  so  closely.  Coesar  is  such  a  kinnving  dog,  father.  Don't 
you  remember  how  often  he  has  warned  us  against  people 
we  did  not  suspect?" 

"  Yes ;  that  may  be  all  true,"  he  replied,  with  a  doubt 
ful  shake  of  the  head.  "  But  don't  you  see  how  he  has 
turned  against  me  to-day?  He  licks  your  hand,  but 
would  bite  mine  as  quickly,  if  he  had  a  chance." 

"  You  shall  see,"  said  she,  "  how  wrong  you  are. 
Here,  Coesar,  come  and  kiss  father's  hand  as  you  do 
mine." 

She  led  him  to  where  her  parent  stood.  Then,  tak 
ing  her  father's  hand  in  hers,  she  extended  it  to  the  dog, 
and  gently  commanded  him  to  kiss  it,  which  he  did, 
though  not  without  every  evidence  of  reluctance  in  his 
manner. 


THE  VALISE  AND   THE  LOCKET.  93 

"  I  told  you  he  was  not  liking  me  over-much,"  muttered 
the  old  man.  "  I  wonder  what  he  means  by  it  ?  We 
have,  until  this  day,  been  fast  friends." 

"  I  know  he  means  you  no  harm,  father.  I  can  see  he 
is  angry,  but  not  with  you  or  me.  He  has  seen  something 
in  that  stranger  which  has  made  him  act  in  this  way. 
Perhaps  he  is  trying  to  warn  us  against  him." 

"My  child,'3  he  replied,  with  a  little  smile  of  derision, 
"you  believe  that  dog  knows  everything;  that  he  sees 
what  we  see,  and  reasons  as  we  reason,  and  can  do  all  we 
do  in  the  way  of  intelligence  except  talk;  and  now  you 
are  ready  to  believe  that  he  can  read  a  man's  character  bet 
ter  than  your  old  father  can.  Tut,  tut,  my  child  !  Men 
are  men,  and  dogs  are  dogs.  There!  we  will  talk  no  more 
of  such1  nonsense  as  the  dog's  knowing  more  than  we  do. 
Come,  hurry  away  on  your  errand,  and  let  me  see  how 
soon  you  can  dispatch  such  a  trifle  of  business.  Be  care 
ful  " — as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  threshold,  from  which 
Csesar  had  already  bounded,  in  obedience  to  a  wave  of  her 
hand — "  not  a  word  more  must  you  say  than  what  I  have 
told  you.  Remember  our  motto :  '  The  silent  tongue  is 
always  safe.'  " 

She  nodded  her  head  with  a  look  of  comprehension,  and, 
bidding  him  good-bye,  went  down  the  path  that  led  to  the 
brook.  Along  this  stream  she  bent  her  steps.  Never  be 
fore  had  the  waters  for  her  so  dull  a  sparkle,  or  so  sad  a 
murmur ;  and  she,  with  her  hand  clasping  the  locket,  tried 
to  think  that  taking  it  back  to  Volney's  mother  was  all 
for  the  best ;  yet  she  could  not  help  crying  every  time 
she  looked  up  and  saw  the  house  where  he  had  lived 
shining  so  brightly  in  the  sun. 

As  for  Nicholas  Grundle,  he  seemed,  from  the  moment 
the  girl  had  passed  out  of  sight,  inspired  with  wonderful 
activity.  His  movements  became  as  quick  and  agile  as  a 
boy's.  Shutting  the  door  with  a  slam,  he  turned  the  key 
in  the  lock.  Then,  hurrying  from  casement  to  casement, 
he  drew  every  curtain  closely,  so  that  no  person  from  with 
out  could  look  through  the  windows.  The  front  door  he 
barred,  dropping,  with  nervous  haste,  its  thick  wooden  bar 
into  the  iron  clamps  that  stood  out  from  either  jamb. 
Having  thus  assured  his  immunity  from  surprise,  he  ran 


94  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

on  tip-toe  to  the  chest  of  drawers.  Unlocking  the  uppei 
compartment  of  this,  he  snatched  out  a  coil  of  wire,  and 
twisted'  .off  a  piece  as  readily  as  if  it  had  been  a  silken 
strand.  With  this  piece  of  wire  in  his  hand,  he  darted 
over  to  the  valise.  In  another  instant  he  had  placed  it 
upon  the  deal  table,  standing  by  the  window,  which,  with 
its  muslin  curtain  slightly  drawn,  commanded  a  view  of 
the  road  that  led  from  the  village.  Here,  securely  hidden 
from  outside  view,  he  could  work  at  the  valise,  and  watcli 
the  road  as  well. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHAT   WAS  SAID   TO  PAT  DOYLE. 

wife  of  Silas  Gagger  stood  at  the  farm-house  win- 
_L  dow,  her  hands  upon  its  ledge,  gazing  with  a  dazed 
look  down  the  lane,  where  her  husband  had  doggedly 
passed  out  of  sight ;  she  had  seen  him  stop  for  an  instant, 
and  turning  around  angrily,  shake  his  cane  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  home  he  had  left.  Then,  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  he  had  disappeared,  with  the  same  determined 
stride,  behind  the  maple-bushes  that  skirted  the  road 
leading  to  the  village.  It  was  useless  for  her  to  ask  her 
self  why  he  had  left  his  home  so  unceremoniously.  Even 
if  her  mind  were  now  the  clearest,  she  could  not  find  any 
reason  for  this  odd  and  unexpected  departure,  nor  had  he 
given  the  slightest  explanation  of  it.  All  she  knew  about 
his  going  was  this:  almost  as  soon  as  her  son  had  gone 
from  the  house,  her  husband  had  reappeared  in  this  room,, 
where  the  scarcely  tasted  breakfast  still  remained  upon  the 
table;  he  threw  his  valise  upon  the  floor  with  a  thud  and 
an  oath  that  startled  her,  as  she  suddenly  raised  her  head 
from  the  table  where  she  had  been  weeping,  and  saw  his 
cold,  keen  eyes  fastened  upon  her. 

"  I  am  going  away,"  he  had  said.  "  I  may  be  back  in 
a  month,  or  a  year,  or  never ;  and  I  guess  it  makes  mighty 
little  difference  to  you  which." 

Then  putting  on  his  hat  and  coat,  and  seizing  his  cane 


WHAT  WAS  SAID  TO  PAT  DOYLE.  95 

and  valise,  he  had  stalked  out  of  the  door  without  another 
word,  only  casting  back  at  her  a  contemptuous  look. 
Thus  he  had  left  her,  and  now  she  had  seen  him  disap 
pear  from  her  sight.  Overcome  by  an  impulse  she  could 
not  resist,  despite  his  treatment  of  her,  she  had  rushed  to 
the  door,  and  would  have  called  to  him  to  return  had  not 
Aziel  caught  her  arm  and  gently  led  her  back  to  a  seat  by 
the  fireplace. 

''  There,  there,  poor  dear !"  said  Aziel,  leaning  over 
her  and  gently  stroking  her  head ;  "  calm  yourself.  I 
heard  it  all.  Let  him  go,  if  he  chooses.  You  could  not 
influence  him  against  his  will.  It's  only  a  freak  of  his 
passion,  I  dare  say,  and  he  may  change  his  mind  the  next 
hour,  and  return  to  us  too  soon  for  our  comfort.  He 
knows*  too  well  how  miserable  he  can  make  us  by  staying 
here.  See !"  glancing  out  of  the  window,  and  pointing 
with  a  little  gesture  of  triumph  in  the  direction  of  the 
barn,  where  Gagger  had  suddenly  reappeared,  "he  has 
come  back  to  the  barn,  after  all  his  talk.  If  he  intended 
to  stay  away  the  length  of  time  he  threatened,  he  would 
not  take  his  horse  and  wagon." 

"  True,  true  !"  said  the  woman  with  a  sigh,  yet  doubt 
fully  shaking  her  head,  as  she  slowly  put  out  her  hand 
and  pressed  Aziel's  with  a  firm  grasp,  as  it  lay  upon  the 
arm  of  her  chair ;  "  but  why  should  he  go  away  at  all  ? 
Can  it  be  possible,"  she  asked,  with  a  little  shudder, 
"  that  he  met  Seth  last  night,  or  has  any  suspicions  of  who 
was  here  with  us  ?  It  may  be  so — though  I  pray  Heaven 
not — arid  his  leaving  us  so  suddenly  may  have  some  con 
nection  with  last  night's  doings.  You  know  he  did  not 
believe  the  man  was  your  brother.  I  am  afraid  he  has 
some  clue,  which  he  is  going  away  to  follow  out ;  for  it 
must  be  something  strangely  unusual  that  for  the  first 
time  in  five  years  takes  him  away  even  for  a  day  from 
his  home." 

"  Well,"  replied  Aziel,  assuming  a  confidence  in  voice 
and  manner  she  by  no  means  felt,  "  suppose  he  has  suspi 
cions,  what  are  they  worth  unless  he  can  confirm  them  ? 
I'll  warrant  you  the  man  who  was  here  last  night  will  be 
more  than  a  match  for  him — " 

"  Yes,  and  for  us,  too,"  interrupted  the  listener,  with 


96  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

a  shudder  at  the  mention  of  this  other  man.  "  Aziel," 
she  went  on,  in  a  voice  half  articulate,  which  gave  greater 
expression  to  her  frightened  face,  "you  cannot  tell  how  I 
fear  Seth  Slacle.  Nothing  will  be  too  cruel  for  him  to  do. 
1  lay  awake  all  night  trying  to  banish  him  from  my 
thoughts  and  get  his  image  out  of  my  eyes.  Well " — 
lowering  her  voice — "thank  Heaven,  there  is  one  sure 
escape  from  him.  Do  not  be  shocked  when  I  tell  you 
that  sooner  than  be  his  wife  again  I  shall  take  mv  own 
life !" 

The  white  lips  closed  firmly  as  a  look  of  stony  deter 
mination  settled  on  her  face. 

"  Fudge  !  fudge  !"  rejoined  the  other  cheerily,  and  play 
fully  patting  the  shoulder  of  her  companion.  "  What  a 
foolish  woman  you  are,  to  let  such  silly  ideas  come  into 
your  head  !  Of  course  he  cannot  make  you  become  his  wife 
again.  Are  you  not  married  to  Mr.  Gagger?  Certainly 
two  men  cannot  have  the  same  wife.  It's  against  the  law  ; 
and,  if  you  have  the  law  on  your  side,  why  need  you 
fear  Seth  Slade  or  what  he  may  try  to  do  ?  So  put  your 
mind  to  rest  on  that  point.  To  make  sure  that  I  am  right 
— and  I  feel  sure  I  am — I  shall  go  down  to  Rader  Craft's 
this  very  day,  and  get  the  law,  word  for  word,  on  the 
whole  subject.  Rader  Craft  is  too  much  of  a  gentleman 
to  ask  me  why  I  want  the  information." 

"  What  if  you  should  find  that  the  law  is  exactly  what 
he  read  to  me  last  evening  from  that  slip  of  paper,  and 
which  but  a  little  while  ago  you  repeated  better  than  I, 
as  we  tried  to  recall  it  to  mind?" 

"  Well,"  replied  Aziel,  with  a  readiness  that  brought 
a  rift  of  encouragement  across  the  face  that  was  earnestly 
bent  on  hers,  "  if  it  be  the  law,  Rader  Craft  shall  show  us 
how  to  get  justice,  in  spite  of  the  law — " 

This  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  a 
man's  heavy  and  shuffling  tread  on  the  kitchen  floor. 
The  women  listened,  and  despite  the  seriousness  of  their 
thoughts,  they  could  but  smile  as  they  heard  this  soliloquy 
from  Pat  Doyle,  the  man-servant  about  the  farm  : 

"Bedad,  Pat  Doyle,  it's  a  lively  breakfast  afore  ye — an 
empty  table,  wid  a  knife  and  fork,  and  a  plate  as  smooth 
as  the  back  of  a  duck.  It's  not  much  that  Misthress 


WHAT   WAS  SAID   TO  PAT  DOYLE.  97 

Loyd  is  lookin'  afther  yer  illigant  appetite    this    morn- 
in'." 

Reassuring  her  companion  that  either  the  law  or  Rader 
Craft  would  be  on  their  side,  and  in  either  case  they  were 
safe,  and  urging  her  to  compose  herself  and  take  fresh 
hope,  Aziel  seized  the  plate  of  meat  and  potatoes,  and 
hastened  into  the  kitchen,  and  apologized  to  Pat  without 
delay,  who,  with  a  woeful  visage,  was  already  seated  at  his 
empty  table. 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  Pat,"  she  said,  placing  the 
dishes  before  him,  which  he  instantly  attacked,  transfer 
ring  to  his  plate  a  large  portion  of  their  contents,  "  but  I 
have  been  so  busy  this  morning,  getting  Master  A'olney 
ready  to  go  away,  that  your  breakfast  is  rather  late." 

»"X^>  indade,  it  is  late;  but,  faix,  I'll  ate  it  all  the 
fasther  to  make  up  for  the  lost  toime.  Bedad,  I  wor 
thinkin'  I  wud  git  my  breakfast  for  dinner,  so  I  wor. 
So  Masther  Volney  has  gone,  has  he  ?  Good  luck  to 
him  !"  stopping  to  swallow  a  huge  gulp  of  coffee,  which 
made  the  bottom  of  the  cup  visible.  "And  otild  Gagger's 
going  too?  May  the  divil  fly  away  wid  him  !  It's  not 
lovin'  him  much  I  am  this  long  time  past.  Troth,  as 
I  wor  talkin'  to  him  in  the  barn  beyant,  I'd  given  a 
week's  wages  to  lather  him,  bad  'cess  to  him  !  Have  ye 
another  wee  dhrop  of  the  coffee,  Misthress  Loyd '?" 

"  Indeed  I  have,  Pat,"  rejoined  Aziel,  quickly  filling 
his  cup,  and  then  preparing  to  fry  him  some  eggs  and 
ham,  his  favorite  dish,  but  not  before  she  had  loaded  his 
table  with  all  she  had  brought  from  the  other  room,  and 
closed  the  door  softly  after  her,  so  that  they  were  now 
alone. 

"  Is  it  iggs  an'  ham  yer  goin'  to  give  me?"  asked  Pat, 
poising  his  loaded  fork  and  knife  halfway  between  his 
plate  and  his  mouth,  and  eying  her  preparations  with  as 
tonished  delight.  "Is  it  killin'  me  wid  kindness  you'd 
be  afther  doin'  this  mornin',  Misthress  Loyd?" 

"  You  have  waited  so  long  for  your  breakfast,  I  am  de 
termined  you  shall  have  a  good  one  for  your  patience," 
replied  Aziel,  putting  the  skillet,  in  which  she  had  laid 
a  generous  slice  of  ham,  upon  the  fire.  "  So  Mr.  Gagger 
told  you  he  was  going  away,  did  he  ?"  she  asked,  iu  an 
y  G 


98  AS  IT  MA  Y  NAPPES. 

indifferent  voice,  as  if  she  were  merely  keeping  up  the 
conversation. 

"  Include  he  did,  Misthrcss  Loyrl ;  an'  sich  a  tattherin' 
rage  he  wor  in  !  Shure,  I  wor  wishin'  nieself  up  wid  de 
weathercock  011  the  roof  o'  the  barn  while  he  wor  talk- 
in'  to  me." 

And  Pat,  heaving  a  great  sigh  of  relief,  as  if  he  had  jnst 
escaped  some  imminent  danger  to  his  life,  resumed  with 
renewed  vigor  his  onslaught  upon  the  food  before  him. 

"  Pray  what  was  he  angry  with  you  about  ?"  questioned 
Aziel,  with  careless  interest,  as  she  turned  over  the  slice 
of  ham  and  replaced  the  skillet  in  position. 

"  Och,  the  divil  himself  couldn't  answer  that  connun- 
dhrum,  Misthress  Loyd  !  But,  faix,  you  wud  have  laughed 
to  say  him  a-sthampiu',  an'  a-swearin',  an'  a-blackguarain' 
me !  Arrah,  I  thought  the  flure  wud  a-come  down  atwixt 
us — the  owld  faggot !" 

"  Why,  Pat,  that  was  a  very  strange  way  for  him  to 
act.  Certainly  he  had  no  fault  to  find  with  you  or  your 
work.  I  am  sure  he  will  never  get  another  man  to  serve 
him  better  than  you  have  done,  or  half  so  well.  What 
did  he  say  ?  I  cannot  understand  such  conduct." 

"Did  ye  iver  lick  a  dog  first,  and  tell  him  to  mind  ye 
afterward?"  asked  Pat,  looking  up  at  her,  with  a  twin 
kle  in  his  eye,  as  she  placed  the  ham  on  his  plate.  "Faix, 
that's  "what  he  wor  doin'  to  me,  the  owld  dcsaiver — goin' 
on  wid  his  goostherumfoodle  like  he  wor  mad." 

"So,  then,  he  wasn't  angry  with  you,  after  all?"  said 
Aziel,  going  back  to  the  stove  with  the  skillet,  into  which 
she  speedily  broke  several  eggs,  and  set  them  sizzling  upon 
the  lire. 

"An'  is  it  three  iggs  ycr  cookin'  for  me?"  exclaimed 
Pat.  "  Bedad,  it's  a  pig  or  a  hen  I'll  be  afore  I  lave  this 
table  if  ye  kape  on  wid  yer  ginerous  hand,  Misthress  Loyd  ! 
It's  too  kind  to  me  ye  are." 

"  Xot  at  all,  Pat — not  at  all,"  she  replied,  shaking  her 
head  at  him,  with  a  merry  smile.  "You  deserve  just  as 
good  a  breakfast  as  I  can  get  you.  There  !"  putting  the 
eggs  alongside  the  ham,  which  was  fast  disappearing;  "is 
there  anything  else  you  would  like?" 

"  Thank   you   kindly,  Misthress  Loyd.     God  save  ye, 


WHAT  WAS  SAID  TO  PAT  DOYLE.  99 

ma'am  !  Barrin'  the  sarvin'  of  you,  there's  nothin'  wantin' 
this  mornin'  to  raise  the  cockles  o'  me  heart,"  he  replied, 
casting  at  her  a  half-timid,  significant  look ;  and  then, 
as  if  he  had  said  something  he  did  not  intend  to  say, 
and  might  regret,  he  flushed  and  coughed  violently,  and 
began  vigorously  to  sprinkle  his  eggs  with  pepper  and 
salt. 

"  Pat,  do  you  know  of  any  way  you  could  serve  me  ?" 
she  asked,  assuming  a  more  confidential  tone,  and  looking 
at  him  with  an  earnest  and  winning  smile  that  would  have 
dispelled  all  thoughts  of  secrecy  in  a  heart  far  more  deceit 
ful  than  his. 

He  looked  at  her  for  just  one  instant  with  hesitancy 
and  doubt  upon  his  face,  and  then,  as  quickly  dismissing 
both,  lie  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork.  Leaning  toward 
her,  with  his  great  black  eyes  full  of  mystery,  he  asked, 
in  a  mysterious  whisper,  glancing  toward  the  door  of  the 
other  room, 

"  Whisht!  is  the  lady  in  the  room  beyant?  She  must 
not  hear  me,  for  it  consarns  her.  Heaven  save  her  kind 
ly  !"  with  a  reverent  look  upward. 

Aziel  stepped  softly  across  the  floor,  looked  through  the 
keyhole,  and  came  back  to  him  with  her  finger  on  her 
lips. 

"  She  is  sitting  by  the  farther  window,"  she  whisper 
ed.  "She  cannot  hear  you  if  you  speak  softly.  Go  on, 
now,  and  tell  me  quickly  what  you  know  that  concerns 
her." 

"  It's  moighty  quick  I'll  out  wid  it,  then.  Aisy  now, 
an'  I'll  tell  ye  how  it  all  wor.  The  owld  sthrap  came  out 
to  the  barn  a  while  ago  wid  his  walise,  an'  he  flung  it 
agin  -the  back  o'  me,  while  I  wor  sittin'  on  the  flnre 
a-cleanin'  the  tibakky  out  o'  me  pipe.  'Get  up  there,  ye 
loafer!'  says  he;  an'  thin,  while  I  wor  holdin'  on  to  me 
back,  afeared  it  wor  gone  in- two  intirely  for  the  blow  of 
him,  he  began  to  curse  an'  to  swear  at  me,  till  I  thought 
the  divil  himself  would  come  up  out  of  the  flure  an'  ex 
change  places  wid  him.  '  I'll  discharge  you  when  I  come 
back,'  says  he.  'Discharge  me,  if  ye  loikes,'  says  I,  'but 
don't  be  afther  dischargin'  that  walise  at  me  ag'in.  It's 
not  playiu'  base-ball  I  am  so  early  in  the  mornin'.'  Wid 


100  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

that,  all  of  a  suddint  he  sthopped  cursin',  an'  says  he, 
laugh  in',  wid  the  grin  o'  the  divil  on  him,  '  Pat,  it's  only 
trying  your  pluck  I  am.  Listen  !  I  am  goin'  away  for  a 
month,  an'  I  lave  the  house  an'  the  wimmin'  in  your 
care.'  'Bliss  their  purty  faces!'  says  I;  'it's  not  sleepin' 
I'll  be,  day  nor  night,  for  the  care  o'  them  angels,  while 
you're  gone.'  Thin  says  he,  comin'  close  up  to  me,  an' 
lay  in'  the  dhirty  hand  o'  him  on  me  honest  shoulder, 
'  Pat/  says  he — an'  the  smile  o'  him  was  loiUe  the  divil's 
own  face  wid  the  colic — (  watch  the  house  day  an'  night,' 
says  he,  'an'  if  ye  notice  any  stranger  comin'  about  the 
house  while  I'm  gone,  I'll  give  ye  tin  dollars,  whin  I 
come  back,  if  ye  find  out  who  he  is,  an'  who  he  comes  to 
see.'  An'  wid  that  he  puts,  by  the  same  token,  a  half- 
dollar  in  me  hand,  an'  givin'  a  murdherous  wink  wid  the 
two  Imd  eyes  of  him,  he  whispered,  'An',  Pat,  kape  all 
this  a  sacret  'twixt  you  an'  me.'  '  Av  coorse,'  says  I.  An' 
thin  says  he,  wid  a  whisper  on  him  that  wud  tear  out  the 
ear  o'  ye,  '  Pat,  did  ye  see  any  strange  man  about  the 
house  last  aveuin1?'  ' No,' says  I;  for  the  lie  lepped  in 
me  throat  afore  I  could  swallo\v  it,  an'  it's  not  him  I'd  be 
tellin',  anyhow,  what  I  see.  Xo;  may  the  divil  cut  the 
tongue  out  o'  me  if  iver  I  tell  Mr.  Silas  Gagger — an' 
that's  his  name  in  full,  I  belave — what  me  eyes  see  or  me 
ears  hear.  An'  that,  barrin'  a  few  threatenin'  words,  Mis- 
thress  Loyd,  is  all  what  passed  atwixt  us  in  the  barn  be- 
yant ;  for,  mind  your  beautiful  eyes,  I  wor  not  stay  in' 
long  wid  him  afther  he  axed  me  that  question.  It  wor 
hcarin'  the  breakfast  bell  I  wor  doin'  immadiately — 
Heaven  forgive  me  the  desalt! — an'  afore  the  owld  stack 
of  rags  cud  pledge  me  anither  word  I  wor  out  o'  the  barn 
and  a-runnin'  toward  the  house  loike  a  pig  wid  his  nose 
in  the  air !" 

Having  finished  his  narration,  he  shook  his  head  know 
ingly,  and  saying,  "  It's  Pat  Doyle  that's  a  match  for  the 
divil  an'  his  angels,  providin'  he's  awake  whin  they  call 
on  him,"  he  took  up  his  knife  and  fork,  and  began  to  eat 
again,  with  a  freshened  appetite. 

"Did  you  see  any  strange  man  around  here  last  night?" 
asked  the  woman,  with  a  feigned  look  of  surprise;  for, 
before  she  \yould  at  ail  commit  herself  with  him,  she 


WHAT  WAS  SAW  TO  PAT  DOYLE.  101 

must  first  learn  just  how  much  or  how  little  he  knew  of 
the  occurrence  of  the  previous  night. 

"Did  I  see  him?"  rejoined  Pat,  with  a  quizzical  ex 
pression  on  his  broad  face.  "Shure,  is  it  makin'  fun  o' 
me  ye  are,  Misthress  Loyd?"  And  then  suddenly  drop 
ping  his  voice  to  a  mournful  cadence,  while  his  face  as 
quickly  grew  serious,  he  half  whispered:  "  ludude,  Mis 
thress  Loyd,  it's  the  God's  thruth  I'm  tellin'  ye  now.  Oh, 
wirra  !  wirra!"  throwing  up  his  hands  in  genuine  dismay, 
"it's  not  sleepin'  all  night  I  am  for  the  sight  o'  that  man. 
But  it  was  watch  in'  him  all  the  time  I  wor.  Bluranagcs! 
I  kept  me  two  eyes  on  him,  through  the  windy,  all  the 
while.  Oh,  be  me  sowl,  had  I  caught  sight  o'  him  layiii'  a 
heavy  hand  on  ye,  or  the  lady  bevant,  it's  into  the  room 
I'd  a-lnpped  loike  a  tiger,  and  laid  him  low  wid  a  blow  o' 
me  fist !  Shure,  it's  bad  luck  that's  comin'  to  the  house  at 
last !"  he  went  on,  with  a  solemn  shake  of  his  head,  and 
no  longer  heeding  his  food.  "It's  always  dhramiu'  o' 
silver  I've  been  this  last  week,  and  that  dhrame  niver 
fails  of  th rouble,  ye  know ;  an',  more's  the  token,  it's  not 
three  sprigs  of  sparemint  I've  seen  in  a  dhrame  since  Bar 
ney  Rooney's  wake,  a  year  ago  last  night — 

"Hark!"  she  interrupted,  suddenly,  laying  her  hand 
with  a  nervous  grasp  upon  his  arm;  "that  is  his  voice. 
I  hear  him  calling  you.  Make  haste — run  !  or  he  will 
suspect  us  !" 

" Murdther,  murdther!  Howly  Virgin  presarve  me!" 
he  cried,  jumping  up  with  a  pale  and  affrighted  face,  and 
trembling  all  over  with  this  strange  outburst  of  fear. 
"  Heaven  save  me  kindly  !  Was  it  indade  his  voice  ye 
heard  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  of  course  it  was.  There  it  is  again  !  I  do  not 
see  how  you  can  mistake  it !" 

In  her  eagerness  she  caught  hold  of  his  shoulder  to 
urge  him  toward  the  door.  He  seized  her  hands  in  his 
own  stronger  grip,  and  it  startled  her  to  feel  how  cold  his 
fingers  were.  Then  he  sank  into  his  chair,  and  great 
beads  of  perspiration  began  to  start  out  upon  his  white 
forehead  and  whiter  temples. 

"  Pat,  Pat !"  she  said,  alarmed,  and  trying  to  shake  him 
out  of  the   deathly  stupor   into  which   he  was   sinking, 
9* 


102  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"what  is  the  matter?  Certainly  you  are  not  afraid  of 
him  ?" 

"Afraid  !"  he  hoarsely  replied,  turning  on  her  such  a 
horror-stricken  face  that  she  drew  back  a  pace  from  him, 
herself  seized  with  an  undefined  fear.  "  What  morthal 
iver  looked  upon  a  ghost  widout  the  fear  o'  God  ?" 

He  rapidly  and  devoutly  crossed  himself,  murmuring 
snatches  of  his  prayers. 

"  Why,  Patrick  Doyle  !"  she  exclaimed,  shaking  him 
even  more  vigorously.  "  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ? 
Who  said  anything  about  ghosts  ?" 

"  Yer  own  purty  lips  passed  the  word,"  he  replied, 
with  a  groan.  "Didn't  ye  tell  me  ye  heard  his  voice?" 
with  a  shudder. 

"  WThose  voice  ?"  she  asked,  still  perplexed. 

"  Shure,  Barney  Rooney's,"  he  whispered,  in  a  trem 
bling  tone. 

"  I  never  knew  such  a  man,  or  even  heard  of  him  be 
fore  you  mentioned  his  name  just  now,"  she  answered,  be 
ginning  to  smile. 

"Ye  didn't?"  said  Pat,  recovering  his  self-possession  as 
rapidly  as  he  had  lost  it.  "Thin  it  wasn't  his  ghost  ye 
heard  jist  now  ?" 

"  A  ghost's  voice !"  and  she  burst  into  a  laugh,  in 
which  he  slowly  joined.  "Better  for  us  all  if  it  were 
indeed  the  voice  of  a  ghost.  Xo,  bless  your  superstitious 
soul !  it  was  your  master's  voice,  calling  you.  There  it  is 
again  !" 

There  was  no  mistake  in  the  carthliness  of  that  voice 
as  it  came  ringing  around  the  corner,  with  clashing  echoes 
from  barn,  house  and  wood-shed. 

"  Hear  the  loud  clack  o'  him  !  Shure,  he  might  be  call- 
in' the  time  o' day  from  the  parish  steeple  wid  that  voice  !" 

Pat  seized  his  hat  to  obey  this  very  unwelcome  sum 
mons. 

"Pat,"  said  the  woman,  detaining  him  an  instant,  with 
the  soft  pressure  of  her  hand  on  his,  that  was  now  turning 
the  knob  of  the  door,  "you  will  be  our  friend — not  only 
mine,  but  hers  ?"  glancing  toward  the  other  room.  "  You 
will  not  tell  her  what  you  saw  last  night,  nor  what  was 
said  to  you  this  morning  ?" 


IN  "THE  LEGAL  REFUGE."  103 

He  nodded  assent.     She  went  on  : 

"  Thank  you,  Pat !  It  is  so  kind  of  you  to  help  us  ! 
I  see  we  can  trust  you  to  keep  our  secrets,  and  to  stand  by 
us  in  any  trouble." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  his  breast.  This  was  always 
his  gesture  when  he  spoke  with  deep  feeling. 

"  Misthress  Loyd,"  he  said,  with  a  voice  that  trembled 
with  earnestness,  "  it's  the  fast  friend  of  the  two  of  ye  I'll 
be  to  me  dyin'  day.  Och  hone !"  raising  his  eyes,  as  full 
of  sorrow  as  was  the  warning  tone  of  his  voice,  "shuiv, 
the  heart  wud  fairly  break  in  me  body  if  hurt  or  harm 
kern  to  ye.  I'll  watch  over  ye  all — mind  that;  an'  if  Mr. 
Silas  Gagger — to  give  him  the  benefit  of  his  full  name — 
thinks  he'll  make  meself  a  spy  on  ye,  he'll  find  he's  missed 
me  like  his  mammy's  blessin'." 

Again  came  the  angry  calls  of  the  voice  at  the  barn. 

"  Arrah,  hear  the  haste  of  him  !  Does  he  take  me  fur 
a  strake  of  lightnin'  ?  Indade,  I  wish  I  wor.  I'd  hit  him 
this  morn  in'  where  it  would  take  a  moighty  long  time  fur 
him  to  gain  his  natheral  powers." 

With  a  wise  look  at  Aziel,  and  touching  his  lips  in 
token  of  secrecy,  he  left  the  house,  and  ran  toward  the 
barn,  shouting,  as  he  ran, 

"Och,  millia  murthur — wirasthrue!  is  it  shpakin'  to 
me  ye  are,  Misther  Gagger?" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN  "  THE  LEGAL  REFUGE." 

OVER  the  door  of  a  small  frame  building  that  stood 
near  by  the  Green  Tree  Inn  was  a  large  white  sign, 
with  these  black  letters  on  it : 

RADER  CRAFT, 

Counscllor-at-Law. 

One  would  suppose  that  in  the  small  and  quiet  village 
of  Slowville  there  was  little  chance  for  a  lawyer  to  gain 


104  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

a  visible  means  of  .support.  But  Slowville  was  inhabited 
by  neither  saints  nor  non-resistants.  The  people  had 
those  disputes  and  quarrels  which  are  the  outgrowth  of 
human  nature,  be  it  primitive  or  educated,  and  law  was 
as  necessary  to  the  peaee  of  mind  and  progress  of  the 
Slowvilleites  as  it  is  to  other  communities  larger  and 
more  aristocratic.  As  moralists  claim  that  no  evil  in  life 
is  unaccompanied  by  a  corresponding  blessing,  either 
apparent  or  hidden,  so  it  had  come  to  pass  that  Rader 
Craft,  from  his  very  first  appearance  in  the  town,  had 
been  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  a  providential  dispensa 
tion.  If  they  must  have  a  lawyer,  said  all  the  people, 
what  better  one  could  they  have  than  Rader  Craft,  who, 
in  addition  to  his  knowledge  of  the  law  itself,  was  not 
only  an  honest  man,  but  endeavored  at  all  times  to  be 
a  peacemaker,  rather  than  a  stirrer-up  of  strife?  Such 
being  his  reputation — and  he  looked  after  his  reputation 
as  closely  as  he  watched  his  fees — Rader  Craft  had  suc 
ceeded  in  Slowville  far  beyond  his  expectations. 

He  had  come  into  the  village  five  years  ago  with  little 
money  in  his  pocket.  So  impecunious  was  he  that  he 
was  obliged  to  begin  a  system  of  credit,  without  any 
other  basis  than  the  sign  he  nailed  over  his  door  and  the 
genial  face  and  happy  manner  with  which  he  greeted  his 
future  clients;  and  the  people  trusted  him.  He  knew 
they  would.  Who  could  resist  his  unctuous  smile,  or 
withstand  the  warm  pressure  of  his  great  plump  hand, 
which  seemed  to  exude  alike  to  friend  and  stranger  the 
oil  of  human  kindness?  This  morning,  Rader  Craft  was 
seated  in  his  office — to  which  he  had  given  the  name  of 
"  The  Legal  Refuge  " — employed  upon  some  important 
document  on  his  table.  Ordinarily  he  had  a  pen  as  ready 
as  his  tongue,  but  just  now  he  seemed  to  proceed  with 
great  labor  and  indecision.  His  brows  were  knitted  with 
the  throes  of  literary  effort,  and  he  had  no  sooner  written 
a  line  than  he  drew  his  pen  through  it  and  gave  vent  to 
a  genuine  sigh  of  despair.  Xow  it  was  not  Rader  Craft's 
nature  to  despair  of  anything,  however  unattainable  it 
might  seem  to  others  of  a  mental  composition  weaker 
than  his  own.  A  client  might  think  his  case  hopeless, 
and  be  ready  to  abandon  it  at  any  stage  of  the  legal  pro- 


IN  "THE  LEGAL  REFUGE."  105 

ceedings  ;  but  the  worse  the  case  grew,  the  more  hopeful 
became  Bader  Craft,  until  his  honest  beaming  smile,  in 
creasing  in  radiance  with  every  succeeding  difficulty, 
would  melt  the  heart  of  any  juryman  who  for  a  moment 
fell  beneath  its  winning  power. 

The  smile  of  Rader  Craft !  Why,  it  would  outweigh 
the  adverse  charge  of  any  judge  in  the  circuit,  it  was  such 
an  honest,  beneficent  and  entreating  smile.  This  morning 
the  smile  seemed  of  no  avail  to  contend  with  the  difficul 
ties  he  had  encountered  in  writing  so  brief  a  composition 
as  a  few  lines  on  a  sheet  of  note-paper.  And  although  he 
had  been  laboring  diligently  since  his  hurried  breakfast  at 
the  Green  Tree,  yet  he  had  got  no  farther  than  the  address 
itself.  To  a  superficial  observer  it  would  have  seemed  a 
very,  «asy  thing  to  write  so  brief  an  epistle,  but  to  Rader 
Craft  it  was  a  harder  task  than  any  legal  document  that 
could  be  found  in  the  book  of  forms  that  lay  upon  his 
desk.  He  put  aside  his  pen  with  a  gesture  of  contempt. 
Thrusting  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets,  he  began  to 
stride  up  and  down  the  room,  as  was  his  wont  when 
wishing  to  impress  a  jury  with  his  complete  confidence  in 
his  case. 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  he  muttered,  "  that  I  should  be 
so  suddenly  at  a  loss  to  express  myself.  Of  course  there 
are  a  hundred  ways  to  write  the  note;  but  then,  again, 
there  is  only  one  way  that  is  the  best  way.  It  will  not 
do  for  me  to  be  too  confident.  I  must  be  winning,  not  pre 
sumptuous.  My  language  should  be  vigorous  with  truth, 
frank  in  its  confessions,  and  yet  solicitous  in  its  weakness 
and  seductive  in  its  hesitation.  Egad !  I  wish  I  had  a 
Complete  Letter-  Writer  !" 

As  if  this  suggestion  were  an  insult  to  his  intelligence, 
he  suddenly  moved  to  his  table,  sat  down  again,  and  took 
np  his  pen  with  a  dogged  shake  of  his  head.  He  was  now 
silent  for  a  long  while.  There  was  no  sound  in  the  room 
save  his  laborious  breathing  and  the  rapid  sputtering  of 
his  pen,  which  wrote,  scratched  out  and  rewrote,  until  a 
dozen  sheets  of  paper  had  been  covered  and  pushed  aside. 
Finally,  he  took  a  fresh  sheet,  and  slowly  copied  upon  it 
a  sentence,  here  and  there,  from  the  pages  he  had  written. 
This  was  quite  a  task,  for  he  was  a  poor  penman  and  a 


106  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

worse  speller,  and  was  obliged  to  stop  many  times  to  con 
sult  his  dictionary.  At  last  his  work  was  finished.  Wip 
ing  the  perspiration  from  his  face,  he  lay  back  in  his  chair 
with  a  chuckle  of  satisfaction,  and  read,  slowly  and  in  a 
low  tone,  the  following: 

"THE  LEGAL  P,EFr<;i:,  Thursday. 

"  Miss  AZIEL  LOYD  :  DEAR  MADAM — The  case  which  I  now  present 
to  your  consideration  is  one  tli:it  should  melt  the  stoutest  heart.  A  gen 
tleman  has  retained  me  in  his  behalf,  and  I  submit  to  you  his  appeal, 
knowing  that  you  will  give  a  judgment  dictated  by  your  soul,  than 
which  God  has  created  nothing  more  tender,  nothing  sweeter,  nothing 
kinder,  nothing  more  loving.  Could  this  gentleman  resist  loving  you  ? 
I  ask  the  question,  bluntly,  it  may  be,  to  one  so  reserved  and  modest 
as  yourself.  Yet,  how  else  could  I  present  the  case  of  one  who  has  been 
charmed  by  your  presence,  ravished  by  your  beauty,  and  now  pines  for 
your  recognition?  Do  not,  I  entreat  you, close  those  lovely  eyes  to  such 
a  worshiper.  Give  ear  to  his  pleadings,  and  let  his  heart  bound  for 
joy  as  your  lovely  head  bows  to  his  appeal.  One  smile  from  your 
sweet  lips  would  thrill  his  soul  with  the  glories  of  another  world,  and 
the  lightest  touch  of  your  fair  hand  would  make  him  your  happy  pris 
oner  for  evermore.  I  will  not  yet  divulge  to  you  the  name  of  your 
adorer.  Suffice  it  at  present  to  say  that  he  is  a  gentleman  of  good  social 
standing,  fair  abilities,  ample  means,  and  with  a  wealth  of  aiK  ction 
which  to  lavish  on  you  would  be  his  supreme  delight,  his  greatest  joy. 
Let  your  own  dear  heart  guess,  with  no  trepidation  or  fear  of  mistake, 
who  is  the  slave  of  your  beauty,  the  captive  of  your  charms.  You  will 
meet  him  ere  long,  and  should  he  place  in  your  fair  hands  a  spray  of 
emblematic  flowers,  let  them  utter  for  him  the  warm  words  of  his  loving 
heart,  and  may  his  speechless  love  be  his  strongest  appeal.  Yours  very 
truly,  KADER  CRAFT,  Counsellor-at-Law." 

He  had  scarcely  finished  reading  this  specimen  of  ama 
tory  writing  and  laid  it  down  upon  the  table,  when  there 
was  a  loud  rap  at  the  door,  and  Silas  Gagger,  without 
waiting  for  an  answer  to  his  summons,  entered  the  room. 

O  t 

The  lawyer  deftly  threw  a  newspaper  over  what  lie  had 
been  writing  and  advanced  to  meet  his  guest,  who  by  this 
time  had  deposited  a  well-filled  carpet-bag  upon  the  floor 
and  seated  himself. 

"Ah!  going  on  a  journey,  I  see?"  Craft  said,  pointing 
at  the  bag.  "  Well,  nothing  like  a  change  of  scene  and 
air  to  revive  exhausted  nature,  give  new  impetus  to  the 
springs  of  life  and  strength  to  the  weary  frame,  and  make 
the  heart  glad  and  the  soul  merrv — " 

"  Fudge !''  interrupted  the  old  man,  throwing  out  his 
hand  in  token  of  silence.  "  I  didn't  come  here  to  hear  a 


iy  "THE  LEGAL  REFUGE."  107 

Fourth-of-July  oration.  Are  you  alone  ?  I  want  to  see 
you  on  business." 

"Correct!  We  will  proceed  to  business  without  delay," 
rejoined  Craft,  suddenly  dropping  his  elevated  style  of 
speech  and  seating  himself  in  front  of  the  other,  bringing 
his  face  to  close  attention,  though  not  without  the  beaming 
smile. 

"Can  you  keep  a  secret  for  me?"  asked  Ganger,  a 
scowl  on  his  wrinkled  face  that  heightened  the  glare  in 
his  eyes. 

"  This  breast,"  rejoined  the  lawyer,  tapping  his  bosom 
with  a  mysterious  shake  of  his  head,  "  is  the  repository 
of  innumerable  secrets.  If  I  were  to  stand  in  the  middle 
of  yonder  street  and  tell  what  I  know,  in  less  than  an 
hour  every  family  in  Slowville  would  be  divided  against 
itself.  Now  do  you  ask  me  whether  I  can  keep  a  secret?" 

"  I  am  going  to  Philadelphia,  to  stay  a  month  or  more, 
just  as  it  suits  me.  I  wish  to  leave  you  in  charge  of  my 
house  and  wife  while  I  am  away." 

The  old  man's  scowl  grew  blacker,  if  that  were  pos 
sible. 

"  At  your  service,  Mr.  Gagger,"  said  Craft  with  a  defer 
ential  bow.  "Whatever  directions  you  leave  shall  be 
strictly  followed." 

"  Would  I  leave  directions  unless  I  expected  them  to 
be  followed  ?"  snapped  the  other.  "  Don't  interrupt  me 
again,  but  answer  my  questions.  Is  a  man  obliged  to  live 
with  his  wife?" 

"  Xo  ;  nor  a  wife  with  her  husband." 

"Humph  !  First  time  I  ever  heard  that  law  and  hap 
piness  were  on  the  same  side  in  married  life,"  sneered  the 
visitor. 

"Law,  sir,  allow  me  to  add,"  said  Craft,  with  a  look  of 
offended  dignity,  "is  the  basis  of  human  felicity;  with 
draw  its  protecting  arms,  and  happiness  would  be  ban 
ished  from  the  world  and  society  plunged  into  chaos." 

"Yes;  that's  what  I  suppose  the  man  said  when  he 
was  hung,"  rejoined  Gagger,  his  scowl  softening  into 
somewhat  of  a  leer.  "You  lawyers  have  a  strange  way 
of  making  people  happy.  You  provoke  contests  you  can 
not  decide,  and  would  not  decide  if  you  could — at  least, 


108  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

fO  long  as  your  clients  have  money.  I  know  you  well. 
You  are  no  better  than  the  doctors,  who  poison  a  man  try 
ing  to  cure  him,  or  the  clergy,  who  raise  more  doubts  in 
people's  minds  than  they  can  ever  settle.  I  tell  you, 
Rader  Craft,  the  world  is  governed  by  fraud  instead  of 
law." 

Silas  Gagger's  cane  came  down  upon  the  floor  with  a 
thump  that  startled  even  the  placid  listener. 

"  Well,  well,  we  will  not  discuss  at  present  the  ethics  of 
the  professions.  There  are  questions  entering  into  the 
consideration  of  the  subject  which,  viewed  in  the  light — "' 

"That  will  do;  we  will  dispense  with  your  light,  for  it's 
the  light  of  old,  which  was  hid  under  a  bushel.  So  the 
law  does  not  compel  a  man  to  live  with  his  wife  ?" 

"No;  but  it  compels  him  to  support  her.  Nothing 
but  a  divorce  from  her,  obtained  by  the  husband  on  ac 
count  of  her  adultery  or  desertion,  can  take  away  her  right 
of  maintenance  by  him." 

"  Humph  !  I  might  have  known  that  your  wonderful  law 
is  on  the  side  of  the  woman,  giving  her  all  the  advantage. 
A  man  gets  no  justice  in  this  world  with  law  and  women 
against  him  !" 

Gagger's  cane  beat  an  excited  tattoo  upon  the  floor,  a 
faint  reflex  of  the  disgust  upon  his  face. 

"  Woman,  my  dear  sir,  is  the  weaker  partv,  and  she 
risks  more  in  marriage  than  the  man  does.  Risking  more 
than  he,  she  should  have  the  greater  protection.  He 
should  at  least  be  made  to  support  her.  And,  sir,"  wax 
ing  a  trifling  eloquent  as  he  stretched  out  his  arms  with  a 
broad  and  sweeping  gesture,  "it  is  the  glory  of  the  law 
that  it  throws  around  the  weakness  of  lovely  woman  a  bar 
rier  that  man,  with  all  the  wickedness  and  roughness  of 
his  nature,  cannot  break  down.  Yes,  sir,  to  the  glory  of 
jurisprudence  be  it  spoken,  woman  stands  enshrined  in 
the  innermost  sanctuarv  of  the  Temple  of  Justice  !'' 

"Fudge!"  exclaimed  the  other,  with  a  snap  of  his 
fingers;  "don't  take  me  for  some  stupid  jury.  Laws 
were  made  to  be  broken,  or  there  would  be  no  employment 
for  your  profession.  And.  what  is  more,  any  law  can  be 
and  is  evaded,  or  there  would  be  no  use  for  lawyers  of  your 
stamp.  I  tell  you,  Rader  Craft,  you  might  as  well  give  up 


IN  "THE  LEGAL  REFUGE."  109 

trying  to  deceive  me ;  I  can  read  you,  and  it's  not  very 
hard  to  do  it." 

"Indeed  !  What  do  you  read  ?  I  have  been  intending 
for  some  time  to  have  a  phrenologist  give  me  an  index  of 
my  character.  Perhaps  you  can  save  me  the  expense,  and 
do  the  job  even  better  than  lie." 

The  lawyer  smiled  most  graciously,  and  assumed  an  at 
titude  of  respectful  attention. 

"  You  would  take  any  case,  provided  it  was  brought  to 
you  with  money.  Am  I  right?" 

"  Yes  ;  for  it  is  my  duty  as  a  lawyer  to  undertake  any 
and  every  case.  I  am  bound,  by  the  very  ethics  of  my 
profession,  to  protect  the  guilty  and  defend  the  innocent. 
It  is  my  noble  prerogative,  sir,  to  see  that  the  criminal  re 
ceived*  no  more  than  his  just  punishment,  and  the  inno 
cent  no  punishment  at  all.  Do  you  comprehend  the  fine 
distinction  included  in  these  two  propositions?" 

"Yes  ;  and  I  see  the  loopholes  within  for  the  escape  of 
your  virtue  ;  for  a  lawyer's  virtue  is  like  the  balance  of 
electricity — least  on  the  side  where  it  is  most  needed." 

"  In  plain  words,  then,  you  believe  that  I,  representing 
at  present  the  most  honorable  of  all  the  professions,  would 
do  anything  for  money  in  my  professional  line?  That,  I 
take  it,  my  friend,  is  your  very  complimentary  opinion  of 
the  profession  in  general  and  myself  in  particular?1' 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  will  prove  it,"  went  on  the  other  with  a 
cunning  look  as  he  took  from  his  pocket  five  ten-dollar 
gold-pieces  and  laid  them  on  the  table.  "  There  are  fifty 
dollars.  They  represent  a  small  portion  of  the  value  of 
the  information  I  wish  to  get — suspicions,"  in  a  lower 
tone,  "  I  want  confirmed.  You  are  the  man  to  do  the 
work.  Am  I  mistaken  ?" 

"Explain  yourself  more  fully,"  was  the  reply,  as  the 
smile  on  the  lawyer's  face  grew  softly  bland,  losing  the 
touch  of  derision  that  had  crept  into  it  a  moment  before. 

"I  will.  Do  you  remember  the  conversation  we  had 
in  this  very  room  five  years  ago?" 

"  Yes;  perfectly  well.  It  was  about  your  marriage  with 
the  widow  Slade,"  laying  particular  stress  on  the  word 
"  widow." 

Gagger  was  quick  to  detect  the  emphasis  on  this  word, 
10 


110  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

and,  with  a.  little  start,  he  bent  his  eyes  with  a  question 
ing  and  scrutinizing  glance  upon  his  companion. 

The  other  made  no  response  beyond  the  steadiness  of 
his  genial  smile  and  a  posture  of  closer  attention. 

"  Do  you  remember  you  told  me  that  I  would  grow 
tired  of  married  life — that  my  habits  were  too  fixed — that 
I  was  too  old  to  marry — and  that,  if  I  were  to  marry,  I 
should  wed  as  nearly  as  I  could  one  of  my  own  age?" 

"  Yes,  I  gave  you  that  advice.  It  was  advice  founded 
on  my  own  observation  and  the  experience  of  others.  It 
was  good  advice  then — is  good  advice  now — to  any  one 
similarly  situated,  and  will  be  until  the  end  of  time. 
There  are  exceptions  to  every  rule,  but  the  general  truth 
in  this  particular  relation  remains  the  same — old  men 
should  not  marry  young  women.  Such  a  union  involves 
risks  against  which  human  nature  has  no  insurance. 
Have  you  discovered  the  truth  or  the  falsity  of  my 
predictions?" 

"  The  truth,"  growled  Gagger  with  a  violent  rap  of 
his  cane.  "  What  an  old  ass  I  was  not  to  take  your 
advice'!  If  I  had  known  you  as  well  then  as  I  do  now, 
1  would  have  done  so.  You  understand  women  better 
than  I  do.  I  will  say  that  much  in  your  praise,  even  if 
you  are  a  lawyer." 

"I  am  obliged  to  you  for  the  compliment,  although  it 
comes  so  unwillingly,"  said  the  lawyer,  his  smile  giving 
way,  for  the  instant,  to  a  look  of  modest  satisfaction.  "  So 
you  cannot  live  together  harmoniously?  Too  bad!  I 
should  judge  you  were  a  very  easy  man  to  deal  with  in 
any  relation  of  life.  To  be  sure,  you  have  your  peculiar- 
.  but  which  of  us  has  not?  But  of  what  avail  is  it 
for  a  man  to  have  the  disposition  of  a  saint  if  he  is  yoked 
to  a  woman  who  is  never  pleased  with  anything  he  does 
or  says?" 

"  True,  true,"  muttered  Gagger,  leaning  his  elbows  on 
his  knees  and  resuming  with  his  cane  the  tattoo  on  the 
floor.  "  You  are  stating  my  case  exactly.  You  are  a 
deep  man,  Rader  Craft — very  deep." 

"Yes  ;  I  can  see  it  all,  as  well  as  if  I  had  been  living 

*  *  o 

with  you  these  last  five  years  of  your  experiment.  You 
married  for  love — " 


IN  "THE  LEGAL  REFUGE."  Ill 

Gagger  raised  his  head  suddenly  and  threw  out  his  hand 
with  a  gesture  of  disgust  as  expressive  as  that  which  had 
come  to  his  face. 

"  Don't  dwell  on  that  portion  of  the  case,"  he  mut 
tered.  "  I  was  a  fool !  I  did  not  know  what  I  was 
doing.  Love?  Bah  !  It  was  an  old  man's  silliness,  his 
folly,  his  stupidity  !" 

"  Well,  then,"  resumed  the  other,  "  we  will  not  discuss 
why  you  married.  But  it  is  evident  that  the  widow  mar 
ried  you  for  your  money.  Now,  now,  be  calm  !"  for  the 
old  man,  at  these  words,  began  to  turn  himself  about  ex 
citedly  in  his  chair.  "  I  am  only  giving  you  the  same 
opinion  I  did  five  years  ago ;  and  you  must  acknowledge 
I  tried  to  do  you  a  good  service  then  in  insisting  upon 
you?  getting  her  to  sign  away  her  right  of  dower  before 
the  marriage." 

"Yes.  And  what  a  blind  old  idiot  I  was  not  to  have 
seen  through  her  then  and  taken  your  advice !" 

"  Exactly  so.  But  having  taken  your  own  way,  and 
found  it  a  wrong  one,  1  presume  you  will  more  readily 
listen  to  me  now.  I  think  you  said  you  had  suspicions. 
What  are  they?  Is  it  possible" — in  a  voice  low,  tremu 
lous  and.  intensely  dramatic — "that  you  have  suspicions 
of  the  truth  of  my  suggestion  to  you,  that  the  widow 
Slade  was — not — a — widow  ?" 

"  Well,  suppose  she  were  not,  what  help  could  it  be  to 
me  now  ?" 

Gagger,  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  floor,  effectually  con 
cealed,  as  he  thought,  the  agitation  which  these  words  had 
caused  him,  for  now  they  were  touching  for  the  first  time 
the  main  object  of  his  coming  here  this  morning. 

"No  help,  unless  you  can  prove  her  former  husband  to 
be  still  living;  and  none  then,  unless  you  are  willing  to 
pay  him  to  take  her  off  your  hands.  For  taking  her  back 
or  leaving  her  with  you  is  wholly  at  his  option.  I  guess, 
though,  you  wouldn't  object  to  a  nice  little  sum  for  that 
purpose.  It's  not  often  a  man  can  get  rid  of  his  wife  so 
easily  in  a  legal  manner." 

The  lawyer  shook  his  head  very  significantly,  and  let  a 
trifle  of  cunning  slip  into  the  blandness  of  his  smile. 

The  visitor  quickly  raised  his   head.      No  use  to  try 


112  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

to  conceal  his  surprise.  What  he  had  heard  suggested  a 
train  of  thought  that  was  entirely  new,  and  as  alarming 
to  him  as  it  was  unexpected. 

That  he  might  have  to  pay  the  former  husband  to  take 
his  wife  back  was  a  proposition  that  made  the  perspira 
tion  start  out  at  every  pore.  If  this  were  so,  he  was  at 
the  mercy  of  the  former  husband,  who  might  also  be  in 
league  with  his  wife.  If  they  should  combine  against 
him,  what  escape  would  he  have  from  their  mercenary 
schemes  ?  Thev  could  play  upon  him  and  rob  him  at 
will. 

11 1  see  my  words  have  not  only  surprised  but  startled 
you,"  said  the  lawyer,  as  his  companion  sat  dazed,  wiping 
his  face  with  a  trembling  hand,  that  plainly  told,  even 
better  than  his  scared  countenance,  how  some  undefined 
fear  had  seized  upon  him.  "  It  is  always  best — and  most 
professional  as  well — that  a  client  should  learn  at  the  first 
the  worst  view  of  his  case.  Forewarned  is  forearmed,  in 
law  as  well  as  war.  Let  me  explain  to  you  the  exact 
legal  status  of  the  whole  affair.  If  Slade,  the  former 
husband  of  the  supposed  widow  whom  you  married, 
should  come  to  life  again — and  it  is  not  an  improbability, 
as  I  suggested  to  you  five  years  since — he  would  have  the 
option  of  claiming  his  wife  or  not  within  six  months  after 
his  return  or  reappearance.  If  he  should  claim  her,  the 
court  would,  on  his  application,  dissolve  your  marriage. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  should  prefer  you  to  keep  her, 
he  has  only  to  let  affairs  remain  as  they  are.  So  you  see 
the  advantage  is  wholly  on  the  side  of  Slade.  He  can 
give  or  take  just  as  he  chooses." 

"  Confound  the  law  !"  muttered  Gagger,  leaning  back 
in  his  chair  with  a  gasp  of  despair.  "It's  always  on 
the  side  of  villainy.  Here  I  am,  an  old  man,  who  is 
either  to  be  hectored  to  death  by  my  wife  or  robbed  by 
this  scoundrel  of  a  former  husband,  who  can  choose  which 
it  shall  be.  It's  too  bad — it's  cruel,  it's  downright  in 
famous  !" 

Grasping  his  cane  with  a  vicious  look,  he  pounded  the 
floor,  with  a  vigorous  oath  at  every  blow,  while  the  law 
yer  smiled  blandly  and  waited  for  the  storm  of  wrath  to 
subside. 


Z.V  "  THE  LEGAL  REFUGE."  113 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  Why  don't  you  advise  me  ?" 
roared  Gagger,  looking  up,  and  becoming  more  exasper 
ated  by  the  cool  silence  of  his  companion.  "  Why  do 
you  sit  there  gloating  over  my  misery  ?  Why  don't 
you  show  me  the  law  that  protects  the  innocent  ?  You 
were  talking  about  protection  fast  enough  a  moment 
ago.  Are  you  going  to  see  me  robbed  of  my  hard  earn 
ings  or  worried  to  death  by  the  worst  shrew  that  ever 
cursed  a  man's  house  ?" 

"  There,  there  !  my  friend  !  Calm  yourself.  There  is 
no  necessity  for  such  a  display  of  temper.  You  have  only 
heard  the  worst  side  of  your  case.  Now  listen  to  the 
other,  and  when  you  have  heard  it  I  think  you  will  assent 
to  my  former  proposition — that  a  lawyer  can  protect  the  in 
nocent.  •  First,  let  me  thoroughly  understand  your  wishes 
in  this  matter.  You  want  to  get  rid  of  this  wife?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  growled  the  other.  "  Do  you  think 
I  am  the  same  idiot  I  was  when  I  married  her  ?" 

"I  will  reserve  my  opinion  on  that  point  until  I  see 
the  result  of  this  interview,"  was  the  half-serious,  half- 
bantering  reply.  "  Now  answer  me  one  question,  and  on 
your  answer  depends  the  whole  decision  of  the  case.  Sup 
pose,"  laying  his  hand  with  an  impressive  gesture  on  the 
other's  arm,  and  throwing  into  his  countenance  a  mys 
terious  look  very  suggestive  of  some  hidden  knowledge, 
"I  should  be  able  to  find  this  Blade,  and  induce  him  for 
a  consideration — a  money-consideration,  you  understand 
— to  take  his  wife  off  your  hands.  What  would  such  a 
favorable  solution  of  this  very  complicated  and  harassing 
affair  be  worth  to  you  ?" 

"  Have  you  any  suspicions  as  to  where  the  man  is  ?" 
asked  the  other,  suddenly  assuming  a  confidential,  coaxing 
tone  entirely  foreign  to  his  manner,  and  drawing  nearer  the 
lawyer.  "  Have  you  heard  anything  lately?  Have  you 
seen  anybody  ?  Come,  Craft,  answer  me.  I  see  it  in 
your  face ;  you  cannot  deceive  me." 

"No,  and  you  cannot  deceive  me,"  the  bland  smile  dis 
solving  into  the  trifle  of  a  laugh.  UI  see  what  you  are 
at.  The  idea  has  suddenly  suggested  itself  to  you  to  treat 
directly  with  tin's  man  if  he  can  be  found,  You  think 
you  can  make  him  take  a  smaller  sum  than  I  would  men- 
10*  H 


114  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

tion  as  liis  price  if  you  employed  me  as  your  agent  in  the 
matter.  Come  now,  don't  deny  it.  Acknowledge  that 
your  avarice  is  getting  the  better  of  your  judgment.  You 
have  driven  sharp  bargains  in  your  life,  and  you  think 
that  here  is  a  chance  for  the  sharpest  bargain  of  all.  Try 
it,  if  you  choose.  You  will  find  yourself  woefully  mis 
taken  in  your  belief  that  you  can  work  yourself  out  of 
this  difficulty  at  a  small  expense." 

The  lawyer's  hand  made  a  broad  sweep  as  if  resigning 
the  case,  while  the  bland  smile  was  blander  than  ever. 

"  I  see  you  hesitate  about  altogether  dispensing  with  rny 
services/'  resumed  Craft  as  the  other  sat  silent,  twirling 
his  cane  between  his  hands,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor. 
"  Suppose  we  start  out  in  this  way  :  I  am — if  it  be  possi 
ble — to  find  the  man,  and  get  him  to  state  the  price  at 
which  he  is  willing  to  relieve  you  of  his  wife.  I  will 
submit  his  offer  to  you,  and  you  can  then  decide  upon  its 
acceptance  or  rejection.  I,  of  course,  am  to  impress  upon 
him  that  while  you  prefer  to  resume  your  single  life,  you 
are  not  so  anxious  to  do  so  as  to  pay  him  any  large  sum 
for  his  aid  in  the  matter.  How  does  that  suit  you  ?" 

"I  am  agreed,"  said  Gagger,  after  a  long  pause  and 
with  something  like  a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  answered. 
"  Now  tell  me,  Craft,  since  we  have  come  to  an  under 
standing,  how  you  are  going  to  proceed.  What  do  you 
know  about  this  man  Slade  ?  Has  he  turned  up,  and  do 
you  know  where  he  is  ?" 

"  Are  you  going  to  Philadelphia  to-day?"  asked  Craft, 
turning  in  his  seat  and  beginning  to  pick  up  the  gold- 
pieces  from  the  table. 

"  Yes — in  the  noon  train." 

"  Then  you  have  not  much  time  to  spare,"  looking  at 
his  watch.  "  Where  are  you  going  to  stay  ?" 

The  number  of  the  house  and  name  of  the  street  were 
given,  and  the  lawyer  wrote  them  down  in  his  memoran 
dum-book — an  unusually  large  volume  for  the  purpose — 
among  whose  leaves  he  sought,  with  evident  trouble,  for 
a  blank  page  upon  which  to  make  the  entry. 

"  I  declare,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  book  with  great 
satisfaction  as  he  closed  its  leaves,  "the  memorandums  of 
important  cases  in  this  diary  make  me  really  proud  of  my- 


IX  "THE  LEGAL  REFUGE."  115 

self.  But  success  is  a  fair  extenuation  of  self-glorification. 
I  little  dreamed  five  years  ago  that  I  would  stand  at  the 
head  of  the  bar  of  Lycoming  County.  By  the  by,  friend 
Gagger,  you  spoke  about  leaving  me  in  charge  of  your 
house  and  wife  while  you  are  away.  Excuse  my  haste," 
assuming  an  air  of  restlessness  and  looking  at  his  watch, 
"  but  I  have  an  engagement  here  by  appointment  with  a 
client,  and  the  sooner  we  arrange  matters  the  less  danger 
of  interruption.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  in  my  surmises, 
you  wish  me  to  give  your  wife  each  week  a  certain  sum 
for  household  expenses.  Am  I  correct?" 

"  Yes,"  nodded  the  other,  slowly  drawing  out  a  pocket- 
book  shiny  and  black  with  age.  "  Here  are  twenty  dol 
lars.  Give  her  five  dollars  a  week  until  you  hear  from 
me  tQ  ,the  contrary.  Mind,  now,  not  a  cent  more!" 

"  Not  a  sum  to  \varrant  extravagance  on  her  part," 
smiled  the  lawyer,  taking  the  money  and  dropping  it 
piece  by  piece  into  his  own  pocket,  every  jingle  sending 
a  momentary  thrill  of  sadness  through  the  donor's  heart. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  growled  the  old  man. 
"  After  paying  the  woman  Aziel  one  dollar,  and  Pat  a 
dollar  and  a  half,  she  will  have  t\vo  dollars  and  a  half 
left,  which  is  more  a  week  than  any  economical  woman 
ought  to  have  when  the  house  is  stocked  with  vegetables 
and  salt  meats.  I  used  to  live  on  half  of  that  sum  before 
I  was  married." 

"  Just  as  you  say,"  replied  Craft  with  his  deferential 
smile.  "  You  understand  the  science  of  domestic  economy 
better  than  I  do.  Now,  to  hurry  on  with  our  business,  I 
suppose  you  wish  me  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  house,  and 
report  anything  unusual — any  strange  visitors,  any  little 
domestic  affair  out  of  the  usual  routine?  Not  that  either 
of  us  has  any  suspicions,  my  dear  sir,"  laying  his  hand 
on  his  companion's  shoulder  with  a  very  significant  look 
that  deepened  the  cunning  of  his  smile,  "  but  we  simply 
conclude  that,  during  your  absence,  a  little  professional 
oversight  on  my  part,  a  moderate  amount  of  guardian 
ship,  would  not  be  amiss." 

The  other  fully  comprehended  him,  and  yet,  restraining 
all  evidence  of  the  malicious  hopes  that  stirred  his  breast, 
he  said, 


116  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  me  to  say  another  word.  I 
see  you  understand  me  perfectly.  Craft,  you  are  a  deep 
fellow — very  deep — and  worthy  of  your  name.  Good 
bye!"  shaking  his  hand,  and  turning  to  the  valise,  which 
he  picked  up,  and  then  started  toward  the  door.  "  Re 
member,  Craft,  if  you  manage  this  affair  well  for  me  you 
will  be  a  richer  man  than  you  are  iiO\v." 

With  a  wink  that  made  his  face  grotesquely  humorous 
Silas  Gagger  made  a  sudden  exit,  for  just  at  that  instant  his 
ear  had  caught  the  dull  whistle  of  the  approaching  train. 
After  he  had  gone  the  lawyer  sat  down  in  his  chair  and 
gave  himself  up  to  silent  joy  as  this  grand  opportunity  to 
better  his  fortune  spread  itself,  with  a  fascinating  clear 
ness,  before  him.  Rubbing  his  fat  hands  together,  and 
exulting  so  heartily  that  his  face  seemed  unable  to  con 
tain  another  jot  of  such  teeming  joy,  he  ejaculated, 

"  Rader  Craft !  Rader  Craft !  you  lucky  man  !  Ay,  ay, 
most  noble  Roman,  thy  star  of  destiny  has  at  last  arisen, 
and  shines  brightly  in  the  eastern  sky.  Fortune  hovers 
over  you,  and  love  leads  the  way." 

A  few  moments  later  he  had  merrily  sealed  and  directed 
the  note  which  had  cost  him  so  much  labor,  and,  secreting 
it  with  a  fond  gesture  next  to  his  heart,  he  went  out  in 
search  of  Dibbs,  the  presiding  genius  of  the  bar  at  the 
Green  Tree  Inn.  Dibbs  should  be  the  shrewd  messenger 
to  carry  this  loving  epistle.  Dibbs,  too,  should  be  his 
right-hand  man,  his  detective,  in  fact,  to  play  the  spy 
upon  the  inmates  of  the  farm-house  and  the  mysterious 
stranger — Slade,  no  doubt,  as  he  already  believed  the  man 
to  be,  from  what  Dibbs  had  told  him — who  he  was  sure 
would  soon  reappear  in  Slowville. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
VOICES  IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOODS. 

fTlHE  girl,  carrying  back  the  token  her  lover  had  given 
JL  her,  did  not  let  it  rest  long  in  her  pocket,  where  the 
old  man  had  thrust  it ;  nor  did  she  go  far  upon  her  way 


VOICES  IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOODS.  117 

with  the  quick  footsteps  with  which,  in  responsive  obe 
dience  to  her  father's  injunction  of  haste,  she  had  left  the 
cottage-door  and  hurried  down  the  garden-path.  Already 
clasped  in  her  hand,  the  locket  was  pressed  upon  her 
bosom,  and — odd  coincidence  indeed — over  her  very  heart, 
where  Volney  had  bidden  her  always  to  wear  it.  And  now, 
with  the  slow,  uncertain  tread  of  one  who  doubts  the  best 
and  fears  the  worst,  she  was  approaching  the  willow  copse, 
although  it  did  not  lie  in  her  direct  path,  and  was  a  place 
which  one  would  think  that  just  now  she  would  have 
shunned.  She  stopped  an  instant,  with  a  movement  of 
hesitation  ;  then  audibly  wishing,  with  many  a  heavy  t  igh, 
that  she  might  avoid  this  sad  spot,  .where  her  lover  had 
left  her  in  anger,  she  went  straight  on  toward  it,  with  that 
perversity  of  real  love  which  so  often  seeks  the  very  means 
of  increasing  its  unhappiness.  She  thought  she  must  be 
crying  now,  there  was  such  a  mist  in  her  eyes,  and  she  felt 
such  a  great,  swelling  lump  surging  up  in  her  throat. 
Throwing  out  her  hands  gropingly  against  the  willow 
branches,  she  parted  them,  and  passed  into  the  enclosure. 
For  a  moment  she  stood  motionless,  her  head  upon  her 
breast,  which,  agitated  by  apprehensions  she  could  not  de 
fine,  rose  and  fell  with  the  rapid  beating  of  her  heart. 

At  last  she  raised  her  glistening  eyes  and  cast  a  swift 
glance  about  her.  The  spot  where  he  had  stood  was  more 
luminous  than  all  the  rest,  and  on  it  her  eyes  fell  with  a 
peculiar  and  peaceful  sadness.  For  how  doubly  dear  to 
her  now  was  this  place !  Here  they  first  had  met — he 
with  smiles  and  she  with  blushes ;  and  here  they  last  had 
parted — she  with  tears  and  he  with  frowns.  "Parted? 
Yes,  parted — perhaps  for  ev — "  She  did  not  finish  the 
word.  It  trembled,  half  pronounced,  upon  her  quivering 
lip,  and  then  died  away  in  silence.  No,  no!  she  would 
not,  could  not,  believe  they  had  parted  for  ever.  She 
would  not  despair  of  seeing  him  again.  How  or  when 
she  knew  not,  any  more  than  she  could  tell  why  she  loved 
him.  Loved  him !  How  her  heart  fluttered  with  this 
thought,  and  then  sent  it  thrilling  along  her  nerves,  until 
she  feared  that  her  hot  cheeks  would  betray  her  happy 
secret  to  the  brook  that  glimmered  at  her  through  the 
branches  at  her  feet !  Loved  him,  when  he  had  been  so 


118  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

unkind  to  her?  No,  not  unkind;  it  was  only  a  little  im 
patient  that  he  was.  He  had  been  deceived  by  her  own 
foolish  hesitation.  He  did  not  understand  what  she 
meant;  and  how  could  he,  when  she  had  told  him  noth 
ing? 

"Poor  Volney!"  she  murmured,  uttering  his  name 
more  tenderly  than  she  had  ever  spoken  it  save  in  her 
dreams.  "How  cruel  I  was  to  him,  to  make  him  so 
angry — to  hurt  his  feelings  so!"  Thus  bewailing  her  un 
generous  treatment  of  him,  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  pen 
itent  tears. 

Weeping  as  she  went,  she  left  the  willow  copse,  passing 
through  the  same  opening  by  which  he  had  departed.  She 
crossed  the  brook  too,  spreading  just  here  into  a  wider 
and  shallower  stream,  stepping  on  the  very  stones  she  Was 
sure  his  feet  must  have  touched;  and  into  the  woods  she 
went,  along  the  path  that  skirted  their  edge.  He  must 
have  trodden  this  path  this  very  morning,  for  whose  foot 
steps  but  his  would  Caesar  trace  with  such  joy  as  he  bounded 
along  before  her,  scattering  the  leaves  that  lay  in  his  way 
and  waking  the  woodland  echoes  with  his  happy  barking  ? 
She  called  the  dog  to  her  and  chided  him  for  his  merri 
ment.  Laying  her  hand  upon  his  great  broad  forehead, 
she  regarded  him  with  a  sad  shake  of  her  head,  and  said 
to  him,  with  trembling  voice, 

"  Csesar,  you  dear,  good  soul !  you  would  not  be  so  hap 
py  if  you  only  knew  how  sad  I  am,  and  what  makes  me 
so.  But  I  cannot  tell  you  now,  Caesar,"  with  a  little 
gush  of  tears;  "so  you  must  walk  beside  me,  and  keep 
very  quiet — that's  a  dear,  good  dog,"  stooping  down  and 
caressing  him. 

They  went  on  together  now  in  silence,  she  slightly 
ahead  of  her  pet,  who  followed  his  mistress  with  half- 
dejected  head,  as  if  he  had  already  made  her  trouble  a 
matter  of  serious  reflection,  and  decided,  if  possible,  he 
would  find  her  a  way  out  of  it.  How  bright  the  woods 
were,  with  the  witching  charm  and  rich  variety  of  Au 
tumn,  who,  like  some  monarch,  seemed  to  be  moving 
across  the  landscape,  followed  by  an  Orient  army  with 
blazing  banners,  glittering  shields  of  silver  and  gold,  and 
all  the  gorgeous  pageantry  of  Eastern  splendor !  Plow 


VOICES  IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOODS.  119 

brilliant  were  the  trees,  as  if  the  departed  beauty  of  the 
summer's  sunset  had  been  distilled  into  leaf  and  twig  and 
branch  !  What  glowing  hues  of  crimson  and  scarlet  and 
gold  !  The  rainbow  itself,  falling  upon  the  forest,  could 
have  left  no  brighter  colors  there.  The  trees,  bathed  in 
the  light  of  the  noonday  sun,  shone  like  pillars  of  fire,  or 
glowed  like  the  red  robes  of  royalty,  or  flashed  like  ban 
ners  of  Persian  cloth  of  gold.  Amid  all  this  beauty  of 
brilliant  gorgeous  coloring,  far  more  exquisite  than  the 
forest  had  presented  in  its  fresh,  green  summer  life,  when 
those  leaves  had  laughed  in  the  sunbeams  and  sung  in  the 
breezes,  wooing  sunlight  and  shadow  alike, — amid  all  this 
splendor,  which  blazed  along  the  tree-tops  and  flashed  here 
and  there  from  bush  and  flower  and  lowly  plant,  the  girl 
walked,  with  head  dejected  and  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground. 
She  saw  only  the  fallen,  faded  and  sombre  leaves  as  they 
rustled  across  her  path,  strewn  thickly  with  these  relics  of 
a  happy  summer-time.  It  was  not  the  rollicking  breezes 
she  heard  now  in  the  high  tree-tops,  that  playfully  nodded 
their  heads  to  the  bright  blue  sky,  but,  instead,  upon  her 
ear  fell  the  moaning  of  the  bleak  wind,  as  it  hastened,  with 
a  ghastly  shudder,  through  the  waning  woods,  as  if  it  too 
— for  the  girl  had  now  quickened  her  pace — could  not 
bear  to  linger  amid  this  sorrowful  decay  of  Nature's  sum 
mer  glories.  So  on  swept  the  moaning  wind,  and  on  sped 
the  unhappy  girl ;  and  yet  the  wind  came  back  again  to 
linger  in  the  gloomy  forest,  and  so  did  the  maiden's 
thoughts  ever  return  to  the  one  sorrow  of  her  heart,  as 
if,  indeed,  there  were  some  hidden  joy  in  her  grief,  some 
enjoyment  even  in  her  sadness.  Silently  pursuing  her 
way  along  the  margin  of  the  brook,  whose  gentle  trills 
and  melancholy  murmurs  kept  rhythmical  cadence  to  her 
fainting  hopes  and  growing  fears,  she  came  at  length  out 
of  the  woods  of  chestnut,  oak  and  maple,  of  sumac  and 
dogwood,  and  found  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  little  pine 
grove  that  skirted  the  Gagger  farm — the  little  pine  grove 
which  she  had  so  often  longed  to  see,  for  was  it  not  there 
that  her  lover  had  told  her  he  had  spent  many  happy 
hours  in  thinking  and  dreaming  of  her?  It  was  a  place 
for  dreaming  or  for  loving,  or  for  dreaming  of  the  lov 
ing  and  the  loved.  How  serene  was  the  silence !  how 


120  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

hallowed  the  stillness  that  floated  on  the  dim,  slumberous 
air  ! — the  air,  laden  with  its  fragment  balsam,  which  stole 
upon  the  senses  like  an  all-pervading  opiate  to  lull  the 
soul  to  happiest  dreams!  Ah,  here  might  the  weary  and 
the  careworn,  and  the  spirit  of  unrest  itself,  find  peace  at 
last  I  Here  can  never  come  the  harsh  sounds  of  busy  hu 
man  toil  and  strifes ;  here  are  hushed  even  the  dreamy 
murmurs  of  the  \voodland  life.  Neither  song  of  bird  nor 
hum  of  insect  vibrates  on  the  expectant  hush  that  fills 
the  air.  It  is  as  if  Nature  herself,  drawing  apart  a  while 
from  all  her  other  works,  knelt  here  in  silent  prayer. 

The  girl  grew  calmer  herself  as  she  stood  rapt  in  con 
templation  of  the  scene.  Numberless  vague  but  sweet  as 
sociations  and  memories  of  the  past  stole  over  the  tumult 
of  her  soul.  Soon  she  felt  that  subtle  charm  pervading 
heart  and  brain,  that  refreshment  of.  soul  which  ever 
comes  to  one  alone  with  Nature  or  with  Nature's  God, 
and  hope  again  touched  with  a  gentle  smile  her  cheek  and 
brow.  Ere  long  she  started  with  a  little  cry  of  joy,  for, 
as  she  hud  gone  on  farther  into  the  recesses  of  these  beck 
oning  pines,  her  eyes  had  caught  sight  of  a  clearing  just 
beyond.  Suddenly,  impelled  by  an  influence  she  could 
not  resist,  she  darted  across  the  soft  turf,  that  scarcely  bent 
beneath  her  light,  flying  feet,  and  in  another  moment  was 
kneeling,  with  happy  though  tearful  eyes,  beside  the  rustic 
seat,  the  beechwood  chair,  his  hands  had  fashioned.  It 
stood  only  a  few  paces  from  the  brook,  at  the  foot  of  an 
old  gnarled  pine  whose  trunk  was  seamed  with  the  red  of 
many  vanished  summers.  This  ancient  tree  was  covered 
here  and  there  with  streaming  tufts  of  gray  lichen,  while 
wild  flowers,  growing  at  its  base,  seemed  like  this  maiden 
nere — unconscious  loveliness  at  the  feet  of  unobservant 
age.  So  this  was  his  retreat,  his  place  to  think  on  her 
alone!  she  thought,  surveying  it  with  tender  and  tim 
orous  glance.  This,  then,  was  where  he  told  her  he  had 
sat  for  hours,  hearkening  to  her  laugh  in  yonder  brook, 
seeing  her  face  in  the  flowers,  her  smile  in  the  sunshine, 
and  listening,  enchanted,  to  her  voice  in  the  zephyr's  soft 
sighing  ! 

Now  she  also  remembered,  as  a  stray  tear  stole  away 
from  her  lashes,  that  he  had  said  he  had  cut  their  initials 


VOICES  IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOODS.  121 

somewhere  on  the  trunk  of  this  pine  tree — cut  them,  he 
had  laughingly  declared,  in  large,  broad  and  deep  letters, 
so  that  the  growing  bark  could  not  blot  them  out  in  many, 
many  years — cut  them  on  the  southern  side,  where  the 
sun  might  always  shine  upon  these  letters,  as  he  hoped 
fortune  would  some  day  shine  upon  themselves.  Where  was 
the  sunny  side  of  this  rough  and  grizzled  tree,  which  looked 
as  if  it  cared  for  neither  sun  nor  light,  darkness  nor  tem 
pest,  and  could  carry  for  ever  a  love-secret  in  its  silent  and 
sturdy  bosom  ?  The  girl  rose  slowly  to  her  feet  and  gazed 
upward  with  eager,  questioning  eyes,  which  had  a  trace  of 
happiness  in  their  search.  No,  the  letters  were  not  here  ; 
besides,  this  was  the  shady  side.  This  she  knew  from  the 
signs  learned  from  her  father.  This  thicker  and  rougher 
bark,,and  these  thick  gray  lichens,  grew  always  on  the 
northern  side  of  pines  and  other  trees,  to  protect  them 
from  the  bleak  winds  and  piercing  storms  that  winter 
brought  from  the  frigid  climes  of  the  North.  Slowly, 
and  with  upturned,  curious  eyes,  she  now  passed  around  to 
the  other  side  of  the  tree,  where  streams  of  sunlight  fell 
flashing  through  the  dusky  foliage  above.  In  another  in 
stant  she  had  clasped  her  hands  with  a  little  cry  of  joy, 
and  was  looking  up  with  transfixed  and  beaming  eyes. 
There  they  were,  as  plain  to  her  as  the  letters  upon  the 
locket.  High  up  he  had  cut  them,  where  no  rude  hand 
could  touch  them,  no  curious  eye  pry  into  the  loving  mys 
tery  of  their  entwining.  Ah,  how  clearly  she  made  them 
out,  despite  their  elevation !  How  readily  she  compre 
hended,  with  alternating  blush  and  gentle  sigh,  the  design, 
so  natural,  in  which  he  had  wrought  them — a  large  "\" 
with  a  small  "E"  within  its  arms;  and  a  large  "S"  with 
a  miniature  "G"  enclosed-  in  each  of  its  curves.  What 
could  be  more  typical  of  a  strong  and  earnest  love? 
What  more  suggestive  of  its  constant  guardianship,  its 
tender  care,  its  all-embracing  solicitude?  And  he  had 
loved  her  in  this  way — had  loved  her  !  The  girl  could  not 
see  the  letters  now.  They  had  faded  out  in  the  gathering 
haze  of  her  eyes — blurred  out  of  sight  at  last.  She  sank 
down  upon  the  ground,  and,  with  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands,  gave  full  vent  to  her  tears,  as  she  rocked  to  and 
fro,  and  let  her  heart  take  complete  possession  of  her 
H 


122  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

thoughts.  All  she  could  think  of  just  now  was  how  much 
she  loved  him.  No  matter  if  he  had  been  unkind  to  her 
this  morning,  she  loved  him  still,  and  loved  him  all  the 
more.  Nor  did  she  once  ask  herself  whence  or  why  this 
all-pervading  feeling  of  her  soul.  It  was  joy  enough — 
question  and  answer  enough — for  her  to  know  that  he 
was  never  so  dear  to  her  as  now.  Nor  could  she  remem 
ber  when  she  had  not  loved  him.  It  seemed  to  her  as 
if  she  had  always  loved  Volney.  Loved  him !  Her  life 
had  been  the  happiness  of  living  only  worth  remembering 
since  they  had  met.  Ah,  the  few  short  hours  of  their 
meetings,  far  too  rare,  were  to  her  now  years  of  happi 
ness  that  bathed  her  past  in  a  glorious  light,  and  fell  upon 
her  future  with  a  mellow  radiance  that  time,  she  knew, 
could  not  dispel  nor  dim  at  all.  Loved  him  !  She  was 
weeping  fast  now,  for  she  was  holding  the  locket  pressed 
to  her  lips,  covering  it  with  passionate  kisses,  as  if  her 
heart  would  break  were  it  not  for  the  caressing  of  this 
treasure,  which,  even  with  him  gone  away  in  anger, 
brought  him  now  so  nigh.  Ah  !  was  he  not  always  near 
her?  Could  she  ever  forget  him  for  a  single  second  in 
the  long  and  weary  days  to  come?  Though  she  might 
never  see  him  again,  would  or  could  his  image  ever  lose 
one  atom  of  the  clearness  with  which  it  glowed  in  every 
fibre  of  her  heart? 

While  thus  deeply  absorbed  she  sat,  asking  herself 
these  and  many  other  questions  which  called  out  more 
and  more  the  full,  strong  feeling  of  her  attachment, 
she  was  startled  by  a  sudden  growl  from  Caesar,  and, 
listening,  she  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps.  Quickly 
turning  and  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  brook,  she 
saw  a  woman  crossing  it — a  female  dressed  in  black,  of 
medium  height  and  figure.  She  had  never  before  seen 
this  woman,  the  girl  knew  full  well,  as  the  figure  came 
closer  and  the  resolute  pale  face  stood  out  clear  in  the  sun 
light.  Yet  the  stranger  now  advanced  with  a  look  of 
semi-recognition,  and  an  expression,  too,  of  friendliness. 
Emily,  on  the  instant  she  had  espied  this  new-comer,  had 
hastily  put  the  locket  out  of  sight,  hiding  it  in  her  bosom. 
Then,  rising  to  her  feet  in  no  little  alarm,  she  pushed  back 
the  hair  that  had  strayed  from  beneath  her  faded  hood 


VOICES  IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOODS.  128 

and  fixed  her  timid  eyes  upon  the  stranger.  Now,  grow 
ing  each  instant  less  fearful,  yet  agitated  by  the  sudden 
hope  that  this  might  be  Volney's  mother,  she  stood  with  one 
hand  pressed  against  the  tree  and  the  other  resting  on 
Caesar's  head,  waiting,  with  half-drawn  breath,  the  nearer 
approach  of  the  woman,  who  still  came  on,  and  with  a  re 
assuring  smile  upon  her  face.  Odd  to  relate,  Cffisar,  con 
trary  to  his  usual  manner  with  strangers,  gave  evident 
signs  of  his  approval  of  this  new  acquaintance.  He 
wagged  his  tail,  threw  up  his  nose  with  several  sniffs  of 
satisfaction,  and  ended  his  demonstrations  with  a  growl 
of  content  and  a  composing  shake  of  his  massive  frame, 
which  he  now  laid  down  at  the  feet  of  his  mistress,  fixing 
his  eyes  with  rapid  alternation  on  her  and  the  figure  so 
close  »at  hand. 

Aziel  Loyd — for  she  the  woman  was — stopping  but  a 
pace  or  two  away,  spoke  to  Emily  in  a  voice  as  reassur 
ing  as  her  smile  had  been,  which  was  now  transformed 
into  a  look  of  admiration,  quickly  succeeded  by  an  ex 
pression  of  pity,  for  she  saw  in  the  eyes  and  cheeks  of 
the  girl  plain  traces  of  her  recent  tears. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed  at  seeing  me,"  she  said.  "  I  had 
no  idea  of  meeting  any  one  here,  and  you,  indeed,  least 
of  all.  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  village,  and  to  make  a 
short  cut  was  corning  through  these  woods.  But  why, 
my  child,  are  you  here,  so  far  away  -from  your  home  ?  I 
thought  your  father  never  allowed  you  to  go  out  of  his 
sight?" 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  farm-house  yonder,"  she  re 
plied,  hesitatingly,  with  a  bashful  inclination  of  her  head. 
"  I  have  an  errand  there  for  my  father."  Then,  as  if  she 
had  taken  sudden  courage  from  the  pleasant  face  that  was 
bent  over  her,  she  asked,  raising  her  own  with  a  timid 
yet  an  unspeakable  yearning  in  it,  "  Are — are  you  his 
mother  ?" 

Before  the  other  could  reply,  Emily,  frightened  by  the 
boldness  of  her  question,  had  again  drooped  her  head  to 
hide  the  chiding  blushes  that  burned  upon  her  cheeks. 
But  the  woman  did  not  answer  quickly.  A  white  look, 
as  the  girl  spoke  these  words,  had  come  into  her  face 
— a  scared  look  springing  quickly  there — to  conceal  which 


124  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

she  turned  away  her  head  for  an  instant;  and  as  she 
turned  her  head,  her  hand,  with  a  movement  evidently 
unconscious,  groped  with  a  nervous,  clutching  motion 
about  her  heart.  But  only  a  second  did  she  stand  thus, 
for  now,  turning  to  her  companion  with  face  again  com 
posed,  she  said,  gently  caressing  the  other's  shoulder, 

"So  you  are  on  your  way  to  see  his  mother?  I  know 
what  you  mean  by  his,"  she  went  on  with  a  grave  smile. 
"  You  mean  one  who  is  dearer  to  me  than  all  else  the 
world  could  give  me — so  dear,  indeed,"  her  voice  trem 
bling,  "that  I  doubt  if  even  you  are  dearer  to  him  than 
he  is  to  me.  Yet,"  surveying  with  a  look  of  unrestrain 
ed  admiration  the  graceful  figure  and  lovely  features  of 
the  girl,  who  had  crept  closer  to  her,  "  I  cannot  blame 
him  for  loving  you.  You  are  very  handsome,  child,  and 
good  besides :  that  I  can  read  in  this  sweet  face.  You 
will  let  me  love  you  too,  for  his  sake?"  tenderly  kissing 
her.  • 

For  answer  the  girl  hid  her  face  on  the  other's  bosom, 
and  wept  a  moment  in  glad  surprise ;  for,  next  to  the  joy 
of  his  loving  her,  what  affection  could  be  more  grateful  to 
her  soul  than  that  of  his  mother,  whom  until  now  she 
had  feared  would  never  care  for  her  ? 

"  I  am  so  glad,  so  happy,  that  you  love  me !"  she 
managed  to  say  at  last,  looking  up  into  the  other's  face 
through  her  joyful  tears.  "  He  told  me  you  might  not 
love  me  much  at  first,  but  that  you  would  love  me  some 
time  almost  as  much  as  you  love  him." 

"So  I  will,"  the  woman  said,  pressing  the  upturned, 
pleading  face  to  her  heart.  "But  tell  me,  what  is  your 
errand?  It  must  be  important,  else  your  father  would 
not  send  you  so  far  alone.  When  I  came  here  I  found 
you  crying ;  so  lean  guess  this  much — that  your  errand 
is  not  a  pleasant  one  to  you.  Come,  you  must  let  me  be 
your  friend.  Sit  down  here,"  leading  her  to  the  rustic 
seat.  "  There  is  room  enough  for  both  of  us.  Now, 
while  I  have  my  arm  about  you  so,  you  must  tell  me  not 
only  your  errand,  but  all  about  your  troubles — for  trou 
bles  you  have,  I  am  sure — and  perhaps  I  can  be  of  ser 
vice  to  you  in  some  way.  I  am  a  good  hand,  I  assure 
you,  to  assist  people  in  their  distress — at  least,"  with  a 


VOICES  IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOODS.  125 

sigh,  "I  can  help  them  to  bear  misfortune,  if  I  can  do 
nothing  to  rid  them  of  it." 

The  other  made  no  reply  just  yet,  but  the  woman,  as 
she  was  speaking,  had  felt  the  girl  nestling  nearer  to  her, 
pillowing  her  head  closely  upon  her  bosom,  and  clinging 
with  a  firmer  pressure  of  her  two  palms  to  the  other's 
hand  that  rested  in  her  lap.  And  now,  silence  ensuing, 
she  was  greatly  agitated,  as  if  by  some  mental  conflict, 
apparently  wishing  to  speak  to  her  companion  and  unbur 
den  her  soul,  but  still  hesitating  to  open  her  lips — in  fact, 
without  the  power  just  now  to  do  so,  so  great  a  fear  of 
her  father  had  come  suddenly  upon  her. 

"  Poor  child !"  murmured  the  other,  softly  kissing  the 
fair  forehead  that  drooped  upon  her  bosom,  "  do  not  be 
afraid  to  tell  me  all  you  wish.  I  will  ask  you  no  ques 
tions.  You  shall  say  to  me  just  as  much  or  just  as  little 
as  you  like.  Any  secret  you  may  choose  to  tell  me  shall 
be  as  safe  with  me  as  if  it  were  my  own.  Poor,  dear 
child !"  she  went  on  musingly,  the  caress  of  her  arm 
tightening,  while  the  girl  kept  tremblingly  silent;  "he 
told  me  you  had  neither  mother  nor  sister.  I  will  be 
both  to  you,  if  you  only  will  let  me.  I  will  counsel  you 
and  guide  you  in  all  those  things  where  a  mother's  love 
and  care  are  always  needed ;  and  surely  you  need  them 
both  in  your  strange  life.  In  me,  too,  you  can  confide  all 
the  little  secrets  that  sisters  love  to  dwell  upon.  Come," 
she  gently  entreated,  smiling  encouragingly,  "do  not  shut 
your  heart  against  me.  Let  me  be  your  friend — let  me 
freely  love  you  as  if  you  were  a  child  of  mine !" 

Emily,  deeply  aifected  by  the  woman's  sympathy, 
could  no  longer  resist  its  magnetic  power,  despite  her 
promise  to  her  father  to  repeat  only  what  he  had  said,  and, 
notwithstanding  her  resolution  and  her  eifort  to  keep  that 
promise,  she  failed  now  of  obedience.  Taking  the  locket 
from  her  bosom  and  pressing  it  into  the  woman's  hand 
writh  a  burst  of  tears,  she  went  on,  with  a  broken  voice 
and  words  that  eagerly  crowded  one  another  for  utterance. 
She  told  the  story  of  the  locket,  as  well  as  that  of  her 
parting  with  her  lover.  Then,  as  if  this  outpouring  of 
her  confidence  had  somewhat  soothed  her  agitation,  she 
said  in  a  calmer  voice,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  locket, 
11* 


AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

which  her  hand  still  fondled  as  it  lay  in  the  other's 
palm, 

"  When  you  give  him  this  locket,  you  will  tell  him  that 
I— I—" 

She  broke  down  here,  but  the  woman  caught  the  sentence 
tip,  and  cheerily  said, 

"Yes,  yes!  you  can  rest  assured  I  shall  tell  him  that 
you  love  him  just  as  much  as  ever,  unreasonable  as  he 
was  with  you — the  foolish  boy  !  But  don't  you  remember 
or  mind  his  little  burst  of  jealousy.  It's  all  over  now,  I 
warrant,  and  he  is  soundly  accusing  himself  for  it.  Lover- 
like,  he  will  not  keep  this  locket  long,  I  am  certain. 
He'll  be  back  here  soon  enough  to  beg  your  pardon  and 
beseech  you  to  take  the  locket  again.  When  he  learns,  as 
I  shall  tell  him,  how  constant  you  are  in  spite  of  the  way 
in  which  he  has  treated  you,  his  love  will  become  all  the 
stronger — perfect  idolatry,  in  fact ;"  and  the  woman  with 
a  merrv  laugh  caught  the  fair  face,  so  bright  and  happy  at 
these  words,  in  her  two  hands,  and  kissed  the  lips  that 
quickly  kissed  her  back  again  with  the  impulsive  affection 
of  a  child. 

Csesar,  who  during  this  conversation  had  been  wander 
ing  with  an  uneasy  motion  around  the  tree,  now  suddenly 
became  very  demonstrative.  As  if  impatient  of  further 
delay,  he  ran  hack  and  forth  on  the  path  they  had  come, 
and  then,  with  a  low,  whining  growl,  he  seized  in  his 
teeth  the  gown  of  his  mistress  and  gently  pulled  upon 
it. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him?  Does  he  hear  any 
body  ?"  asked  Aziel,  hastily  glancing  around  and  start 
ing  from  her  seat,  while  a  scared  look,  like  that  she  bore 
a  while  ago,  came  into  her  face. 

"No,"  rejoined  Emily,  quickly  rising  and  drawing  her 
shawl  closer  about  her  and  her  hood  farther  over  her 
face;  "it's  only  his  way  of  telling  me  that  it  is  time  for 
us  to  go  home.  Dear,  good  Csesar!"  patting  him  ;  "it's 
strange  how  much  he  seems  to  know.  He  thinks  a  great 
deal,  I  am  sure,  and  he  talks  too,  so  that  I  cau  understand 
him  ;  don't  you,  Cirsar?" 

"He  evidently  knows  that  you  are  in  his  keeping,"  said 
the  woman,  eying  him  askance;  "and  I  am  sure  you 


VOICES  IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOODS.  127 

could  be  with  no  safer  guardian  wherever  you  might  go. 
But  I  will  keep  you  no  longer,"  embracing  and  kissing 
her  ;  "  and  as  it  is  better  that  neither  your  father  nor  any 
one  else  should  see  us  together  now,  I  will  wait  here  until 
you  are  out  of  sight  or  nearly  home,  when  I  will  go  on 
my  way  to  the  village.  Of  our  conversation  this  morn 
ing  tell  your  father  whatever  you  think  best.  Remember 
this — that  if  ever  you  should  want  a  friend  always  ready 
and  anxious  to  help  you,  you  will  find  a  warm  welcome 
from  me,  day  or  night,  at  the  farm-house  yonder." 

A  kiss,  an  embrace,  a  parting  look,  and  they  had  sep 
arated,  the  girl  with  light  step  speeding  through  the  check 
ered  shadows  of  the  trees,  the  woman  looking  after  her 
with  a  sad  and  loving  expression. 

"I  could  not  undeceive  her,"  murmured  Aziel  Loyd, 
with  a  heavy  sigh.  "  Well,  let  her  think  I  am  his  mother. 
What  harm  is  there  in  that  to  her  ?  Certainly  none  to 
him.  Indeed,  is  it  not  all  the  better  for  the  happiness  of 
them  both  that  I  should  keep  the  locket  for  him,  and  tell 
him  myself  what  she  was  saying  here  ?  How  else,  I 
wonder,  would  he  ever  get  the  one  or  hear  the  other? 
Not  from  Mrs.  Gagger,  I  know,  who  ere  this  would  have 
sent  the  poor  child  back  to  her  home  in  bitter  tears." 

With  this  resolution,  and  trusting  to  chance  and  her 
own  adroitness  to  carry  on  the  deception  to  a  successful 
issue,  Aziel  went  slowly  on  her  way  through  the  woods. 
Her  brain  was  so  busy  scheming  and  plotting  as  she 
Avalked  that  she  did  not  notice,  as  she  reached  the  out 
skirts  of  the  forest,  a  man  who  evidently  had  been  watch 
ing  her  approach,  and  now  came  directly  toward  her.  No 
need  for  him  to  come  nearer  for  her  recognition.  Before 
he  had  raised  his  hand  in  token  of  silence — the  hand  upon 
which  shone  the  jeweled  finger — she  knew  him  well,  and 
had  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  lips  to  stifle  the  cry  of  sur 
prise  that  came  to  them  on  meeting  so  unexpectedly,  face 
to  face,  the  man  whose  evil  purposes  she  had  set  about, 
this  very  morning,  to  bring  to  naught  if  possible. 


128  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
WHAT  THE  BIRDS  MIGHT  HA  VE  HEARD. 

WHILE  the  woman  stood  half  shrinking  in  his  path 
way,  trying  to  recover  her  self-possession,  and  to 
face  the  man  with  something  of  the  calmness  she  felt  was 
necessary,  in  her  manner  at  least,  he  came  closer,  with  a 
confident  air  and  a  smile  of  familiarity  not  less  suggestive 
than  the  touch  with  which  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm 
and  spoke. 

"  Surprised  to  see  me  here,  aren't  you  ?  Thought  you 
were  rid  of  me  for  a  week  at  least?"  he  said  with  a  little 
mocking  laugh,  bending  his  crafty  eyes  so  close  to  her  face 
that  she  could  not  help  recoiling  from  him.  "  You  are 
still  a  trifle  afraid  of  me,  I  see.  But  pshaw,  Aziel !"  his 
voice  suddenly  changing  to  a  tone  at  once  confidential  and 
insinuating;  "you  have  no  good  reason  to  fear  me.  On 
the  contrary,  our  interests  are  still,  as  they  have  always 
been,  mutual,  if  you  would  only  have  them  so.  You  and 
I  can  always  get  along  together,  Aziel.  There  is  no  need 
for  us  to  quarrel  or  work  against  each  other.  Come,  don't 
look  so  distrustful  of  me.  Let  us  shake  hands ;  let  us  be 
friends,  now  and  always." 

With  an  effort  of  strength  she  managed  to  put  out  her 
trembling  hand,  but  she  could  not,  try  ever  so  hard,  look 
up  at-  him  now,  so  white  with  dismay  as  she  knew  her 
face  was.  Be  in  a  friendly  compact  with  him  now  and 
always  !  Leagued  with  him  against  all  she  held  dear  in 
life !  The  thought  made  her  shudder,  and  her  heart 
flutter  with  a  motion  almost  motionless. 

"  Come,  we  will  sit  down  yonder  and  talk  a  while,"  he 
resumed,  affecting  not  to  notice  her  trepidation,  and  point 
ing  to  a  fallen  stump  near  by.  "  Don't  be  afraid  of  being 
seen  with  me.  We  are  safe  enough  from  observation 
should  anybody  chance  to  go  along  the  road." 

He  led  her,  half  inclined  to  break  away  from  him  and 
flee  the  spot,  to  the  seat,  when  he  gently  pushed  her  down 
upon  it.  Then,  taking  his  own  position  close  beside  her, 
he  caught  up  a  withered  branch  from  the  ground,  and 


WHAT  THE  BIRDS  MIGHT  HAVE  HEARD.      129 

slowly  snapping  off  its  twigs  one  by  one,  he  said,  turn 
ing  upon  her  a  quizzical  look, 

"  You  have  had  an  exciting  time  up  at  the  farm-house 
this  morning — the  old  man  gone,  the  young  man  cleared 
out,  and,  I  guess,  His  Satanic  Majesty  let  loose  generally. 
How  does  Mrs.  Slade  that  was  survive  such  a  sudden  and 
unexpected  wreck  of  earthly  affections?  Feels  as  bad 
about  the  old  man's  going  away,  I  suppose,  as  she  did 
when  she  heard  I  was  drowned  in  the  Pacific." 

Then  he  chuckled,  and  breaking  the  now  twigless 
branch  into  pieces,  he  threw  them  at  a  little  bird  twit 
tering  on  a  bush  near  at  hand.  If  the  woman  had  been 
surprised  at  meeting  him  here  in  the  woods,  she  certainly 
was  more  so  to  hear  him  tell  her  what  had  so  recently 
occurred  at  the  farm-house.  And  so  busy  was  her  mind 
asking  the  question  when  and  how  and  where  he  could 
have  gained  this  information  that  she  made  him  no 
reply. 

"  You  are  wondering  how  I  know  all  this,"  he  said  with 
a  wink  and  a  cunning  shake  of  his  head.  "  You  certainly 
have  not  forgotten  my  old  ability  to  ferret  out  secrets  ?  If 
I  remember  rightly,  you  and  she  were  never  able  to  hide 
anything  from  me  in  those  good  old  times  when  we  all  sat 
under  the  same  vine  and  fig  tree,  as  the  poet  says.  Now, 
don't  look  so  distressed,  I  beg  of  you  !  Those  .good  old 
times  may  come  again.  Who  knows?"  chuckling  again. 
"A  man  ought  not  to  lie  seven  years  in  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
and  then  get  not  only  a  cheerless  but  a  scornful  welcome  as 
soon  as  he  comes  back  to  life.  The  sorrowing  friends  ought 
to  pay  a  warmer  tribute  to  the  reviving  corpse.  Well, 
well  !''  he  went  on  with  a  mocking  sigh,  flinging  up  his 
hands  with  a  little  gesture  of  pity;  "moral  worth  is  ever 
slighted  in  this  mercenarv  world,  and  affections  so  called 
cease  with  the  last  nail  in  the  coffin-lid.  Alas,  alas !  We 
had  better  change  the  subject,  Aziel,  and  talk  of  business. 
So  my  worthy  successor  to  Mrs.  Slade's  affections — that 
beautiful  anatomical  specimen  of  old  age  she  has  taken  for 
a  husband — has  gone  away  this  morning  in  a  huff,  has  he? 
Took  his  carpet-bag  with  him,  too.  That  looks  as  if  he 
were  going  to  be  absent  a  while.  Fine  antique  carpet 
bag  that — in  size  a  small  section  of  Noah's  ark  ;  and  it 

I 


130  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

corresponded  so  well  with  his  clothes — those  relics  of  the 
flood.  Generous  man,  I  should  s:iv  ;  saves  money  on  him 
self  to  give  it  away  to  others.  Ah  !  the  missionary  cause 
would  suffer  if  he  died.  Eh,  A/iel?" 

"  lie  is  a  very  close  and  very  saving  man,"  she  said  at 
length,  after  quite  a  pause,  during  which  she  had  been 
looking  sideways  at  him  in  mute  bewilderment. 

How  had  he  learned  so  much  in  so  short  a  time?  His 
knowledge  of  affairs  which  had  so  lately  and  so  secretly 
transpired  must  have  been  gained,  she  argued,  by  some 
supernatural  means,  unless,  indeed,  he  had  learned  these 
secrets  in  the  only  other  way  possible — namely,  by  talking 
with  Mr.  Gagger  himself;  and  in  regard  to  this  latter 
alternative  she  quickly  resolved  to  satisfy  herself  at  once. 

"Did  you  have  any  conversation  with  him  this  morn 
ing?"  she  asked  with  a  forced  steadiness  in  her  tone,  and 
apparently  busy  in  readjusting  the  folds  of  her  shawl, 
that  had  just  now  conveniently  fallen  away  from  her 
shoulders. 

"  I  thought  you  would  ask  me  that  question.  Ah, 
Aziel,  you  are  a  quiet  little  soul,  but  you  are  deep:  I 
always  said  that.  Well,  in  this  particular  case,  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  the  truth.  No;  J  have  not  spoken  a 
word  this  morning  to  that  saintly  old  soul,  though  I  was 
within  twenty  feet  of  him  as  he  passed  along  the  road 
yonder,"  pointing  over  his  shoulder  in  the  direction  of 
the  highway.  "  On  the  contrary,  I  absolutely  refused  an 
introduction  to  him  last  evening." 

"You  did?"  she  exclaimed  under  her  breath,  her  as 
tonishment  increasing. 

"  Yes.  As  I  was  leaving  your  lane  last  night — that  is, 
the  lane  leading  to  the  farm-house,  where  I  had  the  pleas 
ure  of  renewing  my  acquaintance  with  you  and  Mrs. 
Slade  that  was — he  caught  a  glimpse  of  me  and  called  to 
me  to  stop;  but,"  with  a  comical  roll  of  his  eye,  " consid 
erations  entirely  personal  to  myself  induced  me  not  to  re 
spond  to  his  pressing  invitation  to  remain  for  an  intro 
duction.  I  preferred  to  make  his  acquaintance  at  a  later 
period.  Perhaps  you  will  introduce  me  when  it  shall  suit 
me  best  to  meet  him.  Now,  don't  turn  so  pale  and  look 
so  anxious  at  a  little  joke  like  that.  As  I  said  before, 


WHAT  THE  BIRDS  MIGHT  HAVE  HEARD.     131 

you  and  I  can  work  together  in  this  business — compare 
notes  and  work  up  the  points.  Yes,  yes ;  we  will  be  part 
ners — I  the  silent,  you  the  active  one.  I  supply  the  cap 
ital,  and  you  the  brains.  Ha,  ha!  that's  good!  In  this 
case  a  sound  concern,  I  assure  you.  Well,  partner,  let's 
proceed.  So  the  old  fellow  was  suspicious,  was  he?  As 
soon  as  he  came  into  the  house,  of  course  he  asked  who  that 
strange  man  was  that  he  saw  going  out  of  the  lane.  Eh?" 

She  nodded  assent,  her  face  slightly  averted  lest  he 
should  see  the  look  of  confusion  and  apprehension  upon 
it.  She  was  deeply  excited,  though  she  forced  her  will  to 
the  utmost  to  keep  herself  outwardly  calm,  aiding  herself 
in  this  by  pressing  her  hands  firmly  together  as  they  lay 
in  her  lap.  Yet,  despite  her  efforts  at  control,  her  reason 
ing  powers  for  the  moment  seemed  submerged  in  the 
sea  of  vague  fears  and  more  definite  suspicions  that  swept 
over  her  mind.  She  felt  certain  Slade  had  planned  some 
wicked  scheme,  to  succeed  in  which  he  was  confidently 
relying  upon  her  aid.  What  could  this  scheme  be? 
Was  it  against  her,  or  her  mistress,  or  the  boy,  or  all 
three  of  them?  She  hesitated  more  than  ever  now  what 
she  should  further  say  to  him — how  much  or  how  little  to 
tell  him.  But  out  of  all  this  tumult  of  ideas  came,  clear 
as  an  inspiration,  the  great  necessity  of  gaining  his  confi 
dence.  She  must  learn,  if  possible,  his  future  plans. 
Safety,  if  safety  there  could  be,  lay  only  in  this  course. 

"Come,  come!  Let  your  scheming  brain  rest  a  mo 
ment,"  he  said  with  a  laugh  that  had  something  of  a 
menace  in  it.  "  It  will  be  time  enough  for  you  to  think 
how  you  can  head  me  off  when  you  know  what  I  want  to 
do.  But,"  with  a  sudden  air  of  seriousness  in  voice  and 
manner,  "I  am  not  much  afraid  of  your  opposition,  Aziel. 
I  imagine  you  will  act  in  this  matter  as  I  wish  you  to," 
leaning  nigher  to  her,  until  his  face  was  so  close  to  her 
own  that  she  felt  his  breath  upon  her  cheek.  "You  will 
run  no  risk  with  me,  I  am  sure." 

Each  of  these  last  words  was  accompanied  by  a  slow, 
emphatic  shake  of  the  head,  and  poured  with  sibilant 
whispers  into  her  very  ear.  He  smiled  complacently  at 
the  effect  of  what  he  had  said.  Drawing  now  slightly 
away  from  her,  he  looked  at  her  over  his  shoulder  and 


132  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

silently  regarded  her  with  an  expression  of  triumph, 
whose  possibilities  of  evil,  had  she  seen  it,  would  have 
made  her  far  more  fearful  of  him  than  she  even  now  was. 
She  was  not  looking  at  him.  Her  head  had  fallen  upon 
her  breast,  as  if  struck  down  there  by  this  man  who  had 
thus  spoken  to  her.  Her  hands  rapidly  twined  about 
each  other  in  a  nervous,  passionate  clasp  that  drove  every 
vestige  of  blood  from  them,  leaving  them  white  as  the 
pale  face  above,  the  pallor  of  whose  cheeks  was  reflected 
on  the  lips  pressed  under  the  set  teeth.  Xow  one  hand 
groped  about  her  heart — a  motion  of  hers  he  remembered 
well — and  then  she  gave  a  sigh,  followed  quickly  by  a 
groan,  and  then  a  little  burst  of  helpless  tears. 

"There,  there!  Don't  cry  on  so  small  a  provocation," 
he  said  with  a  faint  touch  of  compassion  in  his  tone  he 
certainly  did  not  feel,  judging  by  the  exulting  smile. 
"  Save  your  tears  for  greater  sorrows,  and  for  fears  more 
worthy  of  them.  You  understand  me,  I  see,  and  that  is 
all  that  is  necessary  for  mutual  safety,  although,  to  be 
honest,  I  must  confess  safety — if  that  is  the  word  to  use 
instead  of  happiness — affects  you  in  this  affair  more  than 
it  possibly  could  me.  One  who  has  nothing  to  lose  has 
little  to  fear,  you  know.  But  come,  drv  your  eyes,"  giv 
ing  his  hands  a  little  clap  with  affected  gayety  ;  "  it's  only 
an  April  shower,  after  all.  Kever  fear  that  you  and  I 
shall  fall  out.  Equal  partners  share  and  share  alike.  Ah 
ha !  Let's  go  back  to  business  now.  So  the  old  cur 
mudgeon  tried  to  find  out  who  I  was?  Commendable 
curiosity  on  his  part,  I  am  sure.  People  should  alwavs 
make  sure  as  possible  of  the  character  of  their  visitors. 
Did  he  ask  you  or  Mrs.  Slade  that  was  as  to  the  identity 
of  yours  truly  ?" 

"He  questioned  me,"  she  replied,  more  composed  now, 
though  her  voice  still  trembled.  "She  had  gone  to  her 
room  when  he  came  home." 

"  Egad  !  I  should  say  she  would,  to  judge  from  her  con 
dition  when  I  left  her.  She  didn't  look  much  like  the 
devoted"  wife  waiting  to  greet  her  husband  on  the  threshold 
of  their  happy  home.  Two  loving  husbands  !  Xo  won 
der  her  cup  of  bitterness  was  full.  So  you  were  the 
opaque  medium  through  which  he  received  impressions  of 


WHAT  THE  BIRDS  MIGHT  HAVE  HEARD.      133 

my  identity  !  Well,  how  did  you  dispose  of  me  ?  I  hope 
you  told'him  who  I  was?" 

"  No,  I  did  not,"  she  said,  Falteringly,  stumbling  at  her 
words  as  she  went.  "  I  thought,  at  least,  you  acted  as  if 
you  did  not  want  him  to  know — " 

"  Pshaw  !  that's  where  you  were  mistaken.  Of  course 
T  want  him  to  know  who  I  am,  and  the  sooner  the  better 
for  all  concerned — and  for  my  purpose  especially.  Well, 
who  did  you  tell  him  I  was  ?" 

"My  brother,  just  returned  from  California;"  and  a 
blush  swept  over  her  face,  as  if  she  would  have  concealed 
this  deception  from  her  listener  had  she  been  able. 

"  Your  brother  !"  He  laughed  contemptuously.  "  Why, 
woman,  you  might  have  known  he  would  not  believe  that. 
All' the  circumstances  pointed  to  the  contrary.  However, 
let  this  mistake  pass  now.  It  in  no  way  affects  my  plans 
— our  plans,  I  should  say,  for  you  and  1,  as  I  said  before, 
are  to  work  together.  Have  you  been  able  to  guess,  while 
we  have  been  sitting  here,  what  my  intentions  are,  or  what 
scheme  has  suggested  itself  to  me  in  which  you  could  aid 
me?" 

She  shook  her  head  negatively.  A  lassitude  had  come 
upon  her,  a  feeling  of  passiveness,  the  reaction  doubtless 
of  her  overstrained  nerves,  which  she  felt  had  now  suc 
cumbed  to  the  power  of  his  superior  will. 

"I  will  tell  you,  then,"  he  went  on,  "both  my  object 
and  my  plans  for  attaining  it.  To  be  frank,  my  object  is 
money  ;  and  to  be  franker,  my  plan  is  to  get  it  out  of  that 
highly-benevolent  individual  your  present  master,  and 
the  husband  of  Mrs.  Slade  that  was.  I  see  already,  by 
your  looks,  you  think  this  impossible.  Wait  until  I  un 
fold  the  details  of  my  plan,  and  you  will  say  it  does  jus 
tice  to  my  shrewdness  of  other  days.  I  have  learned  that 
old  Gagger  is  a  very  jealous  as  well  as  a  very  mean  man. 
Is  that  "so?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  jealous,  but  more  jealous  of  his  money  than 
anything  else.  He  is  very  close  in  all  his  dealings — very 
saving  in  his  way  of  living.  He  is  a  very  grasping  and 
miserly  old  man.  I  am  afraid  you  will  not  get  any  money 
out  of  him.  He  never  gives  away  so  much  as  a  cent  even 
in  charity — " 

12 


134  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"  Oh,  bother  his  meanness  !"  he  interrupted  with  a  snap 
of  his  fingers.  "  I  don't  care  for  that,  so  long  as  lie  is 
jealous.  That's  the  part  of  the  mine  for  us  to  work — 
that's  the  lead  to  follow;  and  the  more  jealousy  we  find, 
the  richer  will  be  the  return  for  our  labors.  Eh,  Aziel  ?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you/'  she  said,  looking  up  at  him 
with  an  expression  of  genuine  bewilderment. 

"  Do  not  comprehend  me  yet,  and  you  a  woman  !" 
slightly  elevating  his  brows.  "Then  I  will  explain  still 
further,  and  plainly,  too.  This  man  has  my  wife.  By 
law  I  can  reclaim  her  within  six  months.  Xow,  if  he 
wants  to  keep  her,  he  must  pay  me  for  her,  and  pay  me 
handsomely.  You  understand  that,  don't  you?  It's  plain 
English,  and  susceptible,  I  think,  of  only  one  construction." 

"  If  this  be  your  plan  for  getting  money  out  of  him.  it 
will  surely  fail,"  she  said  with  a  slowly-swaying  negative 
motion  of  her  head. 

"Oh  no,  it  will  not  fail,"  he  put  in  with  a  confident 
laugh  that  slightly  startled  her,  "  because  you  and  she  will 
not  let  it  fail." 

"  We  !"  she  exclaimed.     "  What  can  we  do  ?" 

"  Do !  Why  everything,  in  fact.  Bless  your  black, 
staring  eyes  !  you  and  she  are  my  right  and  left  bowers  in 
this  game.  You  must  make  the  odd  points  sure  in  the 
score,  even  if  you  do  not  take  every  trick.  You  could 
take  all  the  tricks  if  you  would  only  play  the  game  with 
keenness  and  with  spirit.  Listen  now,  and  tell  me  what 
is  easier  done  than  this.  I  keep  out  of  sight  altogether, 
while  you  two  women  proceed  to  excite  his  jealousy  in 
every  way  possible.  First  you  make  an  honest  confession, 
and  tell  him  that  I — the  man  he  saw  in  the  lane — am  the 
husband  of  prior  right;  that  I  have  come  back  to  claim 
my  wife,  and  that  I  am  desperately  and  devotedly  in 
love  with  her,  and  would  sooner  die  than  see  her  the  wife 
of  another  man.  She,  on  the  other  hand,  must  tell  him 
how  much  she  hates  me — that  will  be  easily  told  by  her, 
I  guess — and  how  devotedly  attached  she  is  to  him.  And 
she  can  easily  make  him  believe  that  by  practicing  on 
him  every  semblance  of  love  her  woman's  wit  can  suggest. 
She  mu^st  coax,  and  humor,  and  flatter,  and  wheedle,  and 
cajole,  and  fondle,  and  caress,  and  kiss  him,  until  the  old 


WHAT  THE  BIRDS  MIGHT  HAVE  HEARD.    '  135 

fool  cries  out  in  his  joy  that  no  man  was  ever  so  loved 
before.  Once  having  made  him  believe  this,  you  and  she 
can  then  use  him  for  my  purpose.  You  can  between  you 
so  arouse  his  jealousy  of  me,  and  inflame  his  fears  lest  I 
may  yet,  as  you  have  so  often  suggested,  tear  her  away 
from  him,  that  he  will  be  willing — yes,  and  anxious,  too 
— to  pav  me  handsomely  to  give  up  my  legal  rights  to 
her.  But  how  am  I,  the  devoted  first  husband,  to  be  thus 
approached  ?  Who  would  have  the  baseness  or  the  temer 
ity  to  offer  me  gold  in  exchange  for  my  precious  wife. 
Nothing  easier.  I  have  one  vice — intemperance.  When 
under  the  influence  of  liquor,  I  am  approached  by  some 
legal  representative  of  the  parties  in  interest,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  of  wild  delirium,  at  the  sight  of  five  thousand  dol- 
lars-*-the  price  of  relinq irishmen t — I  sign  the  paper  that 
parts  me  for  ever  from  her  I  loved  and  worshiped.  The 
next  day  I  leave  the  country,  never  again  to  return,  bear 
ing  in  my  bosom  the  heart  that  nevermore  shall  beat  with 
love's  responsive  throb.  Ah,  Aziel,  woman  can  never 
know  the  depth  of  a  man's  love  !  By  the  by,  if  I  should 
die  before  you,  just  have  that  sentiment  put  on  my  tomb 
stone,  will  you  ?  Well,  now  you  have  heard  my  plan, 
what  say  you?  You  will  help  me  work  it  out?" 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  you,"  she  said,  after  a  long 
silence,  during  which  he  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  was 
pacing  slowly  up  and  down  in  front  of  her,  his  eyes  at 
every  turn  bent  upon  her  face.  "  She  never  would  con 
sent  to  such  a  plan.  I  would  not  dare  tell  her  of  it. 
You  know  how  proud  she  is.  She  would  not  humble 
herself  even  to  a  king,  much  less  to  this  old  man,  who 
never  has  so  little  as  a  civil  word  or  look  for  her.  But 
even  if  she  would  humble  herself  to  him  and  do  as  you 
suggest,  it  would  still  fail  of  getting  you  his  money.  I 
only  wish,"  she  went  on,  her  voice  deepening  with  earn 
estness  and  taking  on  a  pleading  tone,  "that  you  knew 
him  as  well  as  we  do.  I  tell  you  truly  he  would  part 
with  anything  sooner  than  his  money — friends,  relatives, 
wife.  Yes,  I  really  believe  he  values  life  itself  less  than 
he  does  gold  and  silver." 

"  Well,  where  differs  he  in  that  respect  from  the  rest  of 
the  world  ?  Do  we  not  see  everywhere  virtue,  glory  and 


136  (.V   IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

honor  sacrificed  to  riches?  Talk  of  love  being  the  all- 
absorbing  passion!  Bah!  It's  coldness  indeed  to  gold, 
Avhich  can  .seduce  a  saint  or  make  a  devil  of  a  seraph. 
Yes,  Aziel,  let  us  be  honest,  and  acknowledge  the  fact 
that  the  race  of  man  is  the  race  after  wealth  ;  and  I  am 
free  to  confess  that  like  the  rest  of  mankind  I  myself  am 
after  money,  and  like  them  do  not  object  to  devious  meth 
ods  of  obtaining  it,  provided  the  aforesaid  methods  are 
known  only  to  myself,  or,  as  in  this  case,  to  a  couple  of 
intimate  friends.  So  you  think  she  will  refuse  to  aid  me? 
I  guess  not,  when  you  shall  tell  her,  for  me,  that  the  al 
ternative  of  her  refusal  will  be  my  compelling  her  to  come 
back  to  live  with  me.  I  think  the  bare  suggestion  of  that 
delightful  contingency  will  make  her  humble  her  majesty 
to  somebody  considerably  less  than  a  king,  to  nse  your 
royal  allusion  ;  and  as  for  your  aid,  Aziel,  you  will  see 
that  your  mistress  does  as  I  wish,  when  the  failure  on 
your  part  to  successfully  influence  her  will  involve  dis 
closures  thus  far  safely  hidden  through  years  of  constant 
watchfulness  by  you,  not  me — disclosures  which,  if  once 
made,  would  cause  three  hearts  to  ache  •  and  you  know 
one  of  those  hearts  would  not  be  mine." 

AVith  a  half-audible  laugh  midway  between  a  sneer  and 
a  menace  he  turned  slowly  on  his  heel  and  walked  aim 
lessly  about  the  little  clearing,  tossing  up  the  leaves  with 
his  foot,  regarding  her  now  and  then  with  a  careless  look, 
as  if  her  reply  was  a  matter  of  indifference,  so  sure  was 
he  of  the  desired  result.  But  only  for  a  moment  did  the 
woman  sit  quietly  there,  her  dazed  face  hidden  in  her 
hands,  where  it  had  fallen  as  she  cowered  away  from  him 
while  he  was  speaking  these  last  words.  This  final  threat 
of  his,  as  its  full  meaning,  obscured  at  first,  now  flashed 
fully  revealed  through  her  mind,  had  a  strange  effect  upon 
her,  entirely  changing  her  manner  toward  him.  She  was 
no  longer  passive.  She  rose  quickly  to  her  feet,  and  ran 
to  him  with  her  arms  outstretched  and  her  face  white  with 
an  agony  of  entreaty,  making  every  feature  rigid. 

"Oh,  you  would  not  be  so  cruel !"  she  cried,  catching 
hold  of  his  arm  with  a  grasp  that  told  well  how  firm  her 
nerves  were 'now.  "  Oh,  say  you  would  not!  Promise 
me  that  much,  I  beg  of  you!  It  is  all  I  ask  in  return  for 


WHAT  THE  BIRDS  MIGHT  HAVE  HEARD.      137 

what  I  have  done  for  you.  Do  promise  me  you  will  not 
—do!  do!  do!" 

The  tears  falling  fast,  she  pressed  nearer  to  him,  her 
face  closely  upturned  to  his  own.  He  seemed  for  the  in 
stant  to  relent  a  little,  for  he  laid  his  hand  gently  on  her 
forehead,  and  looked  down  into  her  glistening  eyes  with 
something  of  compassion  in  his  gaze.  But  this  change 
in  his  manner  soon  passed  away.'  He  slowly  took  away 
his  hand  and  said,  as  an  expression  more  cynical  than 
stern  came  over  his  face, 

"When  a  man  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  no  one,  not 
even  those  who  professed  to  love  him,  cares  for  him — that 
it  makes  very  little  difference  to  them  whether  he  lives  or 
dies,  is  sick  or  well,  hungry  or  fed — " 

"•No,  no  !  you  cannot  say  that  of  me,"  she  crie;l  with  a 
little  gush  of  eagerness,  putting  her  hands  with  something 
like  a  caress  upon  his  shoulders.  "You  know  I  have 
always  done  the  best  I  could.  What  more,  indeed,  could 
I  have  done?  Tell  me,  was  I  not  faithful  to  you  when 
to  be  so  was  to  crush  my  very  heart?" 

Her  words  at  once  softened  him.  Whatever  it  was 
she  alluded  to,  it  certainly  brought  back  to  his  memory 
thoughts  tender  and  sad;  for  thus  he  spoke,  holding  her 
out  gently  at  arm's  length  and  regarding  her  with  a  vary 
ing  expression  of  regret  and  admiration  : 

"True,  true  is  every  word  you  say.  You  have  indeed 
always  been  faithful  to  me.  Ah  !  if  we  only  could  have 
the  past  to  go  over  again,  we  would  not  be  standing  here, 
both  thinking,  as  I  am  sure  you  are,  of  what  might  have 
been  had  I  never  met  that  woman.  She  was  our  ruin — 
the  evil  spirit  that  crossed  our  path,  the  shadow  that  fell 
for  ever  on  our  lives.  Ah !  precious  days  were  they, 
Aziel,  when  you  and  I  had  never  heard  of  her — happy, 
precious  days  !" 

He  ceased  speaking,  his  voice  dying  away  in  a  murmur 
as  memory  now  flooded  his  soul  with  the  soft  light  of  days 
long  since  forgotten.  His  head  drooping,  he  touched,  un 
consciously  perhaps,  her  forehead  with  a  gentle  kiss.  A 
soft  pressure  of  the  lips  it  was,  more  like  a  parting  bene 
diction  on  the  dead  face  of  the  loved  than  the  tremulous 
kiss  of  hesitating  love.  Her  head  ere  this  had  fallen 

12* 


138  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

upon  his  shoulder,  and  her  eyes  had  closed  themselves  in  a 
mist  of  tears,  whether  happy  or  sorrowful  she  knew  not. 
A  strange  restful  ness  of  mind,  despite  the  agitation  his 
recent  words  had  caused,  came  stealing  over  her  with  a 
dreamy  forgetfulness  of  time  and  place.  How  wondrous- 
ly  tranquil  her  bosom,  heaving  more  calmly  with  subsid 
ing  emotion  !  Her  head  lay  upon  his  breast,  over  his 
throbbing  heart — her  heart  then  and  now  perhaps  !  She 
felt  the  kiss  he  gave  her.  It  did  not  startle  her  as  it 
would  have  done  a  few  months  ago.  It  pervaded  her 
soul  like  the  subtle  incense  of  flowers,  lulling  her  to  rest, 
sweet  rest  at  last,  yet  brief  at  very  longest. 

How  it  happened  that  this  spell  of  enchantment  was  so 
rudely  broken  she  could  never  tell  herself.  She  only  knew 
that  in  some  mysterious  way  she  was  startled  into  the  full 
consciousness  of  where  she  was  and  what  she  was  doing. 
The  next  instant  she  had  snatched  her  cheeks,  hot  with 
confusion,  from  his  breast,  closed  her  eyes  to  his  gaze, 
tender  as  of  old,  and  torn  herself  away  from  his  arms. 
Then,  as  he  spoke  to  her  kindly  and  sought  to  detain  her 
with  a  slight  hold,  she  had  turned  from  him  and  fled  out 
of  the  woods  into  the  main  road,  where  she  flew  along, 
not  once  looking  back  until  she  had  reached  the  village 
street.  Then,  seeing  he  was  not  following  her,  she  fell 
into  a  slow  pace  and  bent  all  her  remaining  energies  to 
calming  herself.  This  she  found  impossible  just  now, 
and  fearing  to  risk  an  interview  with  Bader  Craft  in  her 
present  agitation,  she  drew  her  veil  more  closely  about 
her  face,  and  turned  into  a  cross-road  which  would  lead 
her  back  to  her  home  by  a  longer  way  than  she  had  come. 
As  for  him,  he  stood  where  she  had  so  abruptly  left  him, 
his  arms  slowly  folded  across  his  breast,  his  lips  firmly 
set,  and  his  eyes  riveted  upon  her  until  she  was  out  of 
sight. 

"It  is  strange,"  he  muttered,  "that  she  should  still  af 
fect  me  in  this  manner.  I  thought  that  seven  years'  sepa 
ration  would  have  wrought  a  change  in  either  her  or  me. 
I  know  not  why  it  is  that  when  we  are  alone  she  works 
such  a  spell  upon  me.  Somehow,  when  she  talks  and  acts 
as  she  did  just  now,  I  feel  myself  another  man,  with  dif 
ferent  thoughts  and  feelings  awakened  within  me,  as  if 


IN  WHICH  DIBBS  REVEALS  HIMSELF.          139 

from  the  sleep  of  the  dead.  But  pshaw !"  with  a  toss  of 
his  head  and  a  cynical  smile;  "  what's  the  use  of  giving 
time  to  maudlin  thoughts?  I  cannot  live  on  sentiment. 
Life  is  real,  as  the  poet  says,  and  no  one  has  had  move 
numerous  proofs  of  its  realities  than  I  have.  It's  each 
man  for  himself,  despite  the  cry  of  universal  brotherhood, 
and  even  crime,  provided  it  is  not  detected,  is  a  quicker 
road  to  success,  if  not  a  surer  one,  than  virtue.  So,  Seth, 
my  boy,"  tapping  himself  significantly  on  the  breast, 
"drop  sentiment  and  attend  to  business.  Better  be  with 
out  sentiment  than  without  money;  and  to  save  money 
by  the  slow  and  uncertain  process  of  labor,  and  by  the 
rules  of  honest  acquisition,  is  not  suited  to  your  disposi 
tion,  Seth,  or  your  peculiarity  of  genius;"  and  flinging  out 
his  amis  with  a  chuckling  laugh,  he  took  his  way  deepen' 
into  the  woods.  Here,  in  a  sunny  spot  that  promised  him 
perfect  immunity  from  observation  or  discovery,  he  sat 
down  and  began  to  more  thoroughly  systematize  his  plan 
of  operations.  As  he  thought  intently  how  best  to  ac 
complish  his  purposes  it  was  evident,  from  the  evil  smiles 
that  played  over  his  features,  that  he  was  not  maturing 
the  faint  aspirations  after  a  better  life  which  the  recent 
words  and  presence  of  the  woman  had  for  the  instant 
stirred  in  his  breast. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

IN   WHICH  VIBES  REVEALS  HIMSELF. 

bar-room  of  the  Green  Tree  Inn  was  at  the  pres- 
_L  ent  time  without  any  appearance  of  life  save  that 
represented  by  its  presiding  genius,  Bill  Dibbs,  with  his 
pet  mocking-bird  dozing  in  a  cage  by  the  window.  This 
morning,  though  it  was  within  a  few  moments  of  his 
happiest  hour — dinner-time — Dibbs  had  not  his  usual 
smile  of  happy  content  upon  his  face,  but  it  bore  instead 
an  anxious,  thoughtful  look,  such  as  was  habitual  to  him 
M'hen  alone.  He  was,  as  he  would  himself  have  expressed 
it,  deeply  meditating — evidently  one  moment  presenting 


140  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

difficult  problems  to  his  mind,  and  the  next  instant  trying 
to  solve  them.  He  had  come  out  from  behind  the  bar 
now,  and,  with  eyebrows  contracted,  was  measured  ly 
walking  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  counter,  his  coat- 
lapels  flung  carelessly  back,  his  thumbs  in  the  arm-holes 
of  his  vest,  his  fingers,  extended  in  a  regimental  line, 
pressed  upon  his  breast,  and  his  head  inclined  slightly 
forward.  This  was  an  attitude  of  mental  absorption 
which  he  had  copied  after  Rader  Craft,  Esq.'s,  consequen 
tial  manner  in  his  office  when  a  client  was  consulting 
him  on  an  important  case.  Now,  abruptly  coming  to  a 
halt,  after  the  style  of  this  self-same  lawyer.  Dibbs  whirled 
upon  his  heels,  fixed  his  eves  with  a  stern  glare  upon  the 
pitcher  of  water,  at  which,  in  lieu  of  a  client,  he  pointed 
his  fore-finger  with  an  overawing  look,  and  muttered,  as 
he  had  heard  Craft  do  in  similar  cases, 

"  Your  story,  sir,  is  very  strange,  mysterious,  impossible 
— I  may  say  incredible,  sir!  But  it  shall  be  investigated, 
substantiated  or  falsified.  Mark  me,  sir,  probed  to  the 
very  bottom  !  If  true,  sir,  you  have  a  remedy  ;  if  false 
in  any  particular,  then,"  lowering  his  voice,  "with  due 
regard  to  the  natural  bias  of  an  interested  individual,  we 
will  omit  that  particular  in  the  presentation  of  our  case. 
The  law,  sir,  with  a  humanity  and  justice  all  its  own, 
gives  us  entire  control  of  our  testimony  and  the  method 
of  presenting  it. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  continued  Dibbs,  in  a 
burst  of  forensic  eloquence  after  the  style  of  his  model, 
spreading  out  his  arms  until  they  embraced  in  their  benev 
olent  sweep  the  entire  row  of  bottles,  gilt-lettered  and  with 
silver-plated  stoppers,  on  the  back-shelf,  "the  case,  briefly 
stated,  is  this:  A  stranger  comes  suddenly,  alone  and  at 
night  to  the  Green  Tree  Inn.  He  tells  not  his  name;  he 
states  not  his  errand.  He  first  takes  a  drink  with  the 
gentleman  who  elevates  the  decanters  of  the  splendidly- 
equipped  saloon  of  that  establishment.  Then,  having  by 
this  means — as  lie  supposes — ingratiated  himself  into  the 
good  feelings  of  the  elevating  individual  aforesaid,  he  pro-, 
ceeds  to  deliver  himself  of  sundry  questions.  Sundry 
questions,  I  sav,  gentlemen,  but  they  all  bear  with  a 
strange  coincidence  upon  the  inmates  of  the  residence  of 


IN  WHICH  DIBBS  REVEALS  HIMSELF.          141 

Silas  Gagger,  and  especially — mark  it  well,  gentlemen  ! — • 
upon  the  wife  of  that  most  estimable  freeholder  and 
highly-respected  and  beloved  citizen  of  Slow vi lie. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  I  beg  you  to  follow  me  carefully, 
and  mark  the  next  step  in  this  domestic  drama.  Having 
gained  all  necessary  information  for  his  base  purposes, 
this  mysterious  stranger  left  the  Green  Tree  Inn  under  the 
pretext — ay,  gentlemen,  and  with  his  own  declaration — 
that  he  was  going  to  the  Lyceum  or  the  village  mart, 
and  would  return  again  and  pass  the  slumbers  of  the 
night  beneath  the  hospitable  roof  of  the  Green  Tree  Inn. 
But,  gentlemen,  he  neither  visited  the  places  aforesaid, 
nor  returned  to  the  hostelry,  with  its  inviting  saloon,  over 
which  our  esteemed  fellow-townsman,  William  Dibbs, 
Esq.,  .has  the  honor  of  presiding. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  where  did  this  man  go?  Into 
whose  house,  I  ask  you,  did  he  enter  with  stealthy  step, 
and  from  whose  fair  brow  and  cheeks  did  he  drive  the 
crimson  tide  of  beauty  and  make  her  face  whiter  than  the 
marble  of  Diana's  temple?  Would  that  I  might  draw 
the  veil  of  secrecy  here,  but  the  cause  of  my  client  and 
the  demands  of  justice  compel  me  to  go  on  to  the  sad  and 
bitter  end. 

"  Why,  gentlemen,  why  did  this  mysterious  stranger  ask 
questions  that  bore  almost  entirely  upon  the  whereabouts 
and  present  status  of  Mrs.  Silas  Gagger,  the  beautiful  and 
accomplished  wife  of  one  of  our  most  generous  and  ad 
mired  citizens?  What  was  his  secret  purpose?  What 
his  hidden  object?  AVhat  his  sinister  scheme? 

"Ah,  gentlemen,  there  is  a  serpent  in  every  field,  no 
matter  how  green  its  sward  basks  in  the  sunshine  ;  there 
is  a  bee  in  every  flower,  no  matter  how  sweetly  it  smells 
upon  the  pulsing  summer  air. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  lowering  his  voice,  as  dismal 
as  the  solemnity  of  his  face,  to  a  hoarse  whisper,  "this 
mysterious  stranger  is  the  serpent  whose  slimy  form  we, 
see  trailing  itself  through  blooming  flowers  and  verdant 
grass  toward  the  happy  home  on  yonder  hill.  He,  gentle 
men,  is  the  bee  that  seeks,  in  his  straight  and  arrowy 
flight,  the  matrimonial  flower  which  blooms  in  the  garden 
of  our  respected  friend — seeks  it,  gentlemen,  only  to  leave 


142  AS  IT  MAY  JIAPPEX. 

his  sharp  and  bitter  sting  behind — a  sting  that  hath  the 
poison  of  death  in  its  lain  test  touch.  Ay,  gentlemen,  and 
the  poison  lias  already,  in  one  brief  night,  begun  its  work 
of  ruin  and  decay.  Hardly  has  the  beginning  of  day  gilded 
the  eastern  horizon  ere  my  dishonored  client,  who  now 
presents  his  sad  case  to  you  for  your  consideration  and 
judgment,  leaves  his  home,  upon  which  misery  worse  than 
all  the  thousand  woes  of  earth  has  fallen,  and  goes  out 
into  the  world  with  his  love  betrayed,  his  honor  made  a 
mockery,  his  heart  broken,  and  his  crushed  soul  bleeding 
itself  away. 

"Ah,  gentlemen,  old  age  in  distress  is  always  a  pitiable 
spectacle,  melting  even  adamantine  hearts  to  tears,  but  the 
saddest  of  all  sights  is  an  old  man  driven  out  into  the 
cold,  heartless  and  cruel  world,  robbed  of  his  wife,  his 
home  and  every  joy  his  aged  heart  holds  dear — an  old 
man  homeless,  wifeless,  betrayed,  robbed  and  deserted  ! 
Pardon  my  emotion,  gentlemen." 

Here,  Dibbs,  turning  aside  his  head  and  covering  his  face 
with  his  hand,  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  slowlv  wiped 
his  eyes,  trembling  all  the  while  from  head  to  foot  with 
visible  agitation.  In  a  few  moments  he  seemed  to  have 
sufficiently  recovered  himself  to  go  on  with  his  appeal. 

He  turned  slowly  around  to  the  jury,  his  eyes  still 
lowered.  Clearing  his  throat  of  its  huskiness,  he  blow  a 
reviving  blast  upon  his  nose,  gave  himself  a  reassuring 
shake  all  over,  thrust  the  handkerchief  into  his  coat-tail 
pocket,  pulled  up  his  coat-sleeves  some  six  inches  above 
his  wristbands,  finally  ran  one  hand  through  his  bristling 
hair,  and,  for  the  first  time  since  this  affecting  outburst 
of  emotion,  now  raised  his  eyes  to  the  imaginary  jury — 
namely,  the  dozen  or  thereabouts  of  bottles,  which  seemed 
to  have  maintained  a  strangely  stolid  indifference  to  his 
appeals  during  this  affecting  oratorical  scene. 

But  as  Dibbs  slowly  lifted  his  eyes,  as  if  to  note  the 
effect  of  his  exordium,  they  fell  with  blank  surprise  upon 
the  form  and  features  of  Eader  Craft  himself,  who  at  this 
moment  opened  the  door  at  the  rear  of  the  bar,  and  now 
stood  facing  the  orator. 

"That  was  very  well  done,  Mr.  Dibbs,"  said  the  lawyer 
with  his  ever-bland  smile  as  he  closed  the  door  behind 


IN  WHICH  DIBBS  REVEALS  HIMSELF.          H3 

him  and  advanced  to  where  the  young  man  stood,  confused 
and  almost  frightened.  "  I  had  no  idea  you  had  so  good 
a  memory  or  such  wonderful  powers  of  imitation.  As  I 
stood  outside  the  door  yonder  and  listened  to  you,  I  could 
almost  fancy  I  heard  my  own  voice  and  words  in  the 
great  divorce  case  of  Fox  vs.  Fox,  which  I  argued  this 
summer.  In  fact,  I  did  recognize  the  thoughts  as  well  as 
the  peculiar  construction  of  the  sentences,  and  most  of  the 
phraseology.  May  I  ask,"  with  a  gracious  wave  of  the 
hand  and  a  patronizing  expression  in  the  bland  smile, 
"how  and  where  and  why  you  committed  them  to  mem 
ory?  I  feel  very  much  complimented  by  your  so  doing, 
I  assure  you." 

Dibbs,  quickly  perceiving  that  the  lawyer  was  in  no 
ways  offended,  but,  on  the  contrary,  rather  pleased,  as 
readily  changed  his  manner  to  that  of  his  usual  freedom 
and  confidence  when  talking  with  this  man. 

"  So,"  he  said  with  a  bland  smile  very  like  the  other's, 
"you  are  desirous  of  informing  yourself  how  and  where 
and  why  I  committed  to  memory  your  celebrated  peroration 
in  the  renowned  case  of  Fox  vs.  Fox?  How  did  I  com 
mit  it?  By  the  aid  of  a  memory  as  flexible  as  it  is  tena 
cious,  I  conveyed  it  from  the  columns  of  the  Slowville 
Patriot  to  the  everlasting  palimpsest  of  my  own  brain. 
Where  did  I  commit  it?  Where  else,  honored  sir,  save 
behind  yonder  humble  bar,  when  I  caught  the  fleeting 
moments  as  they  sped  by  day,  or,  stretched  on  yonder 
miserable  pallet,  conned  them  over  beneath  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  that  flew  too  swiftly  for  my  thoughts." 

"  Why,  Dibbs,  you  are  eloquence  personified  this  morn 
ing,"  said  Craft  with  a  condescending  motion  of  his  head 
as  he  patted  the  young  man  on  the  shoulder. 

And  there  was  a  trace  of  wonder  in  his  face  that  even 
the  smile  could  not  conceal. 

"Why  did  I  commit  it?"  went  on  Dibbs,  paying  no 
heed  to  the  interrupting  compliment.  "Because,  sir,"  lay 
ing  his  hand  upon  his  breast  with  a  modest  bow,  "I  ad 
mired  it  for  the  rare  simplicity  of  its  style  and  the  subtle 
harmony  of  its  periods.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Craft,"  suddenly 
warming  up  and  his  eyes  kindling,  "that  was  a  wonderful 
exhibition  of  eloquence!  I  was  in  the  court-room  when 


144  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

you  delivered  that  argument,  and  every  time  you  finished 
one  of  those  long  sentences  I  could  see  the  jurymen  bend 
their  heads  in  approval,  just  as  regularly  as  if  they  were 
toy-men  all  pulled  by  one  string.  Yes,  yes !  that  was  a 
great  speech — a  magnificent  specimen  of  special  pleading!" 

Dibbs,  as  if  overpowered  by  the  recollection,  suddenly 
ceased  speaking,  and  crossing  his  arms  stood  silently  gazing 
at  his  companion  with  profound  esteem. 

"  I  see  I  have  a  sincere  admirer  and  a  firm  friend  in 
you,"  said  the  lawyer,  speaking  slowly  and  with  emphasis, 
"and  I  can  truly  say  I  reciprocate  your  feelings."  Then, 
after  an  impressive  pause,  "  William  Dibbs  you  are  a  young 
man  of  no  ordinary  abilities.  I  am  astonished  at  this  ex 
hibition  of  your  oratorical  and  linguistic  powers.  They 
indeed  surprise  me  beyond  adequate  expression." 

"  Whatever,  honored  sir,  I  am,  I  am  indebted  to  your 
example  and  encouragement  for  it,"  spoke  Dibbs  with  ready 
frankness  and  a  humble  bow,  his  hand  pressed  upon  his 
heart. 

"  Indebted  to  me  !"  exclaimed  the  lawyer.  "  Explain 
yourself.  This  is  a  surprise." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  am  indebted  for  it  all  to  you.  Mr.  Craft, 
when  you  appeared  in  this  town,  five  years  ago,  I  said  to 
myself,  as  soon  as  I  heard  your  first  speech  in  court, 
'There  is  the  man  I  would  like  to  be.'  Such  language 
as  you  employed  I  had  never  heard  before.  Such  gestures 
I  had  never  beheld.  Your  whole  style,  your  comprehen 
sive  vocabulary,  your  graceful  attitudes,  and  the  musical 
modulations  of  your  voice,  captivated  me,  honored  sir, 
beyond  expression  ;  and  from  that  day  to  this  I  have 
been  studying  and  imitating  you." 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  Craft,  settling  himself  in  a  chair 
and  regarding  his  companion  with  a  look  of  surprise  that 
struggled  with  the  bland  smile  for  supremacy.  "In  what 
respect  have  you  studied  and  imitated  me?  This  is  a  very 
interesting  revelation,  and  a  pleasing  one  too.  We  can 
pay  no  greater  compliment  to  a  person  than  to  adopt  him 
as  an  example." 

"That  compliment,  I  trust,  you  will  recognize  in  my 
humble  self,"  said  Dibbs.  "  First,  as  to  general  appear 
ance,"  stepping  in  front  of  his  companion  and  proudly 


JxV  WHICH  DIBBS  REVEALS  HIMSELF.          145 

squaring  himself  for  exhibition  in  detail.  "  Note  my  face 
— clean-shaved  and  smooth  like  your  own.  Do  you  per 
ceive,  also,  the  arrangement  of  my  hair? — cut  closely,  and 
without  part  on  either  side  or  in  the  back." 

Dibbs,  bending  over,  rapidly  whirled  his  head  around 
until  he  had  brought  to  view  its  entire  surface.  Then  he 
made  it  resume  its  upright  position,  thrusting  his  fingers 
through  the  forelock,  and  causing  it  to  stand  up  straight 
and  tall  as  a  miniature  sheaf  of  wheat. 

"Your  hair  is  certainly  trimmedNand  worn  like  my  own," 
said  Craft,  "  though  I  must  confess  that  until  this  present 
moment  the  fact  had  escaped  my  notice." 

"After  all,  this  tonsorial  similarity  is  only  a  trivial  af 
fair,"  resumed  Dibbs  with  a  dismissing  wave  of  his  hand. 
"  It 'is  the  apparel,  as  Shakespeare  says,  that  oft  proclaims 
ihe  man.  And  if  you  glance  ever  so  casually  at  my  tout 
ensemble,  as  the  French  describe  it,  you  will  see,  honored 
sir,  the  rejection  of  your  own  excellent  taste  and  judgment. 
Behold,"  rapidly  pointing  to  each  article  indicated,  "  mv 
standing  collar,  the  points  meeting  in  front;  my  small 
black  silk  tie  ;  my  plain  bosom,  without  pleat  or  ruffle, 
with  its  plain  gold  studs,  and  only  two  of  them  visible  ; 
my  modest  watch-guard  of  black  twilled  silk  ;  the  simple 
gold  ring  on  my  little  finger  ;  my  suit  of  dark  clothes — 
nothing  peculiar  about  them,  and  cut  in  a  style  individual 
though  general,  and  so  quiet  as  not  to  be  noticeable  ;  my 
boots,  square-toed  ;  and  my  hat  on  yonder  peg,  a  stiff  black 
felt,  with  a  broad  brim.  Tell  me,  honored  sir,  is  not  my 
appearance  an  exact  epitome  of  your  own  illustrious  self?" 

"It  is  indeed,"  replied  the  lawyer,  briefly  surveying 
his  own  apparel  and  comparing  it  with  that  of  Dibbs. 
"  Strange  that  I  never  noticed  this  before  !  How  long 
have  you  been  dressing  in  this  way  ?" 

"  I  approached  this  style  by  degrees,"  rejoined  Dibbs, 
straightening  the  bow  of  his  tie.  "To  have  suddenly 
adopted  it  would  have  attracted  public  attention  and  pro 
voked  criticism,  that,  coming  to  your  illustrious  ears, 
might  have  been  unpleasant  to  your  honored  self." 

"  A  very  commendable — an  exceedingly  commendable 
— prudence  on  your  part,"  was  the  complimentary  remark 
of  the  lawyer,  accompanied  by  a  smile  no  less  approving. 

13  K 


146  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"Your  cautious  procedure  in  the  matter  also  evidences 
that  you  possess  a  rare  knowledge  of  human  nature,  its 
methods  of  thought  and  ways  of  judgment.  But  inform 
me  :  has  no  one  here  in  Slowville  remarked  as  yet  the 
similarity  between  your  attire  and  mine?" 

"A  few  persons  have  recently  alluded  to  it  in  my 
presence." 

"  What  did  they  say  ?" 

"  That  depended  upon  whether  they  were  your  enemies 
or  your  friends.  Men's  opinions  are  always  biased  by 
their  prejudices." 

With  a  profound  shake  of  his  head  worthy  of  this 
oracular  utterance,  Dibbs  bent  an  expressive  look  upon 
his  companion. 

"  I  did  not  know  I  had  an  enemy  in  all  this  neighbor 
hood,"  said  the  lawyer  in  a  half  soliloquy. 

"Success  always  brings  enemies,"  spoke  the  firm  voice 
of  Dibbs.  "Does  Death  love  a  shining  mark  ?t  So  does 
calumny.  Ah,  revered  sir,  jealousy  is  the  assassin  that 
ever,  with  slow  and  stealthy  step,  follows  behind  the  toil 
some  ascent  of  merit." 

"  True,  true !"  heavily  sighed  the  other.  "  Little  re 
liance  can  be  placed  on  earthly  friendship.  Young  man, 
your  utterances  are. those  of  a  philosopher.  I  must  con 
fess  my  amazement.  Plow  has  it  been  possible  for  you,  in 
your  obscure  position  here,  to  gain  such  a  knowledge  of 
human  nature  as  I  see  you  possess  ?" 

"Mr.  Craft,"  said  Dibbs,  throwing  out  one  foot  a  little 
in  advance  and  inserting  his  thumb  in  the  arm-hole  of  his 
vest,  "  the  knowledge  that  best  serves  a  man  in  this  world 
is  not  obtained  from  books.  Learning,  I  grant,  is  of 
value  to  all  men,  but  the  knowledge  of  men  and  things  is 
of  more  value,  for  it  alone  is  wisdom.  It  is  the  eyes  and 
the  ears,  honored  sir,  which  are  the  great  and  natural  edu 
cators  of  the  mind.  A  wise  man's  eyes  see  aright,  his  ears 
hear  correctly.  The  eyes  and  ears  of  your  humble  ser 
vant  have  always  been  kept  open — wide  open  ;  shut  only, 
honored  sir,  when  slumber's  chains,  to  use  the  poet's  phrase, 
have  bound  them." 

"  You  have  been  a  close  observer,  then,  of  the  people 
with  whom  you  have  come  in  contact?  You  have  studied 


IN  WHICH  DIBBS  REVEALS  HIMSELF.          147 

their  characters,  noting  their  peculiarities  of  speech  and 
manner  and  drawing  your  conclusions  therefrom?" 

"  The  case  concisely  stated,"  said  Dibbs  with  something 
of  a  lofty  flourish  of  his  disengaged  hand.  "  And  I  can 
imagine  no  better  opportunity  to  study  human  nature 
than  that  afforded  me  in  this  very  apartment.  Here  I 
learn  to  adapt  myself  to  every  phase  of  character,  being 
all  things  to  all  men  that  I  may  the  better  investigate 
their  failings  and  weaknesses.  Why,  my  illustrious  sir, 
trivial  as  the  test  may  seem  to  one  of  your  enlarged  views, 
I  can  tell  by  the  manner  in  which  a  man  takes  a  drink 
and  pays  for  it  whether  he  be  a  liberal  man  or  a  mean 
one — air  honest  man  or  a  dishonest  one.  The  test  is  an 
infallible  one,  honored  sir — infallible  as  the  law  of  grav 
itation." 

"  Pray  go  on,  and  tell  me  how  you  accomplish  such  a 
result.  I  confess  that  I  am  more  than  usually  interested 
in  this  conversation.  You  are  dawning  upon  me  as  some 
thing  of  a  genius." 

"Begging  your  pardon,  Mr.  Craft,  there  is  no  genius 
about  it.  It  is  only  the  practical  application  of  common 
sense.  When  a  man  fills  his  glass  nearly  to  the  top  with 
the  raw  liquor,  I  know  before  I  look  into  his  face  that  he 
is  a  mean  man,  and  a  dishonest  man-^-too  mean  to  pay  in 
full  for  all  the  liquor  he.  wants,  or  else  he  would  separate 
his  one  drink  into  two,  and  pay  for  them  accordingly. 
Dishonest,  too,  for  he  knows  that  it  is  contrary  to  commer 
cial  as  well  as  moral  law  for  a  man  to  drink  by  the  whole 
sale  and  pay  by  the  retail." 

The  lawyer's  smile  broadened  and  deepened,  then 
merged  into  a  long  and  hearty  laugh  of  approval  more 
complimentary  to  Dibbs  than  any  words  he  could  have 
spoken.  Then  he  leaned  forward  in  his  chair  ;  and  com 
posing  his  face  into  something  like  judicial  gravity,  he 
said, 

"  My  young  friend,  you  have  made  to  me  a  most  unex 
pected  and  astonishing  revelation  of  your  abilities.  I 
reiterate  my  former  remark — you  are  a  genius.  Your 
whole  conversation  indicates  rare  powers  of  mind,  intel 
lectual  and  analytical.  You  are  not  in  your  proper 
sphere,  Dibbs.  You  ought  to  be  a  lawyer,  and  I  am 


148  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

very  much  inclined,  without  further  reflection,  so  convinced 
am  I  of  the  truth  of  my  opinion,  to  offer  you  a  place  in 
my  office,  where  you  could  properly  expand  your  genius 
and  become  something  worthy  of  ^*our  present  promise. 
With  proper  training  you  have  a  bright  future.  "What 
say  you  to  being  a  student  in  my  office?  You  can  per 
form  clerical  duties  for  me,  which  will  enable  you  to 
support  yourself  until  you  are  admitted  to  practice. 
"When  once  you  are  a  lawyer,  I  shall  have  no  fears  for 
your  pronounced  success." 

"  Words  are  inadequate  to  express  my  profound  grati 
tude,"  replied  Dibbs,  bowing  low ;  "  but  I  must  respect 
fully  decline  your  generous  offer.  I  have  made  'up  my 
mind  as  to  my  course  in  life,  and  it  is  not  the  practice  or 
the  profession  of  law,  honorable  and  ennobling  though 
they  both  are." 

''May  I  ask  what  it  is?" 

"  Most  assuredly,  honored  sir.  I  intend  to  be  a  politi 
cian.  That's  the  profession  in  which  1  can  rise  the  easiest, 
and  in  which,"  with  a  knowing  wink,  "I  can  make  the 
most  money  with  the  least  trouble." 

"  A  politician  !"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  slowly  empha 
sizing  eacli  syllable.  "How  can  you  become  a  politician? 
Certainly  not  here  m  Slowville,  with  so  many  ahead  of 
you  in  social  position  and  standing." 

"Of  course  not.  I  know  my  proper  field  of  action. 
Politicians  thrive  best  in  cities,  where  the  caucuses  and  the 
polls  are  left  wjiolly  to  their  manipulation.  To  a  city  I 
intend  to  betake  myself  ere  long,  leaving  this  country  grave 
yard  far  behind  me." 

"  To  what  city?"  asked  Craft,  repressing  a  smile. 

"  To  Philadelphia  or  New  York;  it  matters  not  which 
to  me.  Either  of  them  affords  a  wide  scope  and  a  bound 
less  field  for  a  politician's  ambition.  You  may  laugh." 
noticing  the  other's  incredulous  smile,  "but  I  am  secretly 
preparing  myself  every  hour  for  such  a  life.  Slowville 
will  one  day  suddenly  become  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
she  had  once  within  her  borders  a  man  who  toiled  for 
fame  and  fortune  while  others  slept." 

"What  are  your  preparations,  pray?  Are  you  reading 
history  or  studying  constitutional  law  ?" 


IN  WHICH  DIBBS  REVEALS  HIMSELF.          149 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  am  studying  language  just  now — 
increasing  my  vocabulary,  learning  as  best  I  can  to  become 
an  orator  for  the  people.  Already  I  have  found  the  key 
to  success,  and  am  mastering  it.  A  flow  of  high-sounding 
words  is  the  main  element  of  success  in  public  speaking. 
It  charms  because  it  bewilders,  and  impresses  because  it 
confounds.  Sound,  not  sense,  sways  the  multutude.  Give 
me  full  command  of  the  dictionary,  and  I  will  carry  the 
day  against  an  army  of  arguments  drawn  from  reason  and 
experience." 

And  Dibbs  snapped  his  fingers  over  his  shoulder  with 
a  contemptuous  toss  of  his  head. 

"  Dibbs,"  said  the  lawyer,  "I  have  been  wondering,  while 
you  were  talking,  how  you  have  acquired  such  a  command 
over  the  larger  words  of  language.  It  is  a  mystery  to  me. 
You  have  had  only  a  common-school  education,  such  as 
you  could  pick  up  here  in  Slowville  three  months  in  the 
year,  and  yet  you  talk  like  a  born  linguist." 

"  Nothing  easier,  honored  sir,  than  to  acquire  a  volumi 
nous  vocabulary.  Education,  provided  one  desires  it,  is 
only  a  matter  of  will.  Labor  can  accomplish  anything. 
Behold  the  hidden  and  secret  source  of  my  knowledge, 
disclosed  now  for  the  first  time  to  you  alone/'  going  be 
hind  the  bar  and  taking  from  a  shelf 'beneath  it  two  books, 
which  he  handed  with  great  pride  to  the  lawyer.  Craft, 
with  no  little  astonishment  depicted  on  his  face,  turned 
over  the  well-worn  volumes,  and  read  the  titles — Webster's 
Student's  Dictionary,  and  Roget's  Thesaurus  of  English 
Wonts. 

"  How  do  you  study  these?"  he  asked.  "Do  you  com 
mit  them  to  memory  by  the  page?" 

"  Not  at  all.  My  procedure  is  less  methodical,  but  more 
practical,  than  that  would  be.  The  course  I  pursue  is  this : 
I  choose  a  word  for  investigation — the  word  'begin/  for 
instance.  I  turn  to  the  Dictionary,  and  learn  the  deriva 
tion  of  that  word,  and  all  its  definitions,  primary  and  sec 
ondary.  Having  treasured  these  up  in  my  memory,  I  open 
my  Thesaurus,  and  there  find  the  words  that  have  a  similar 
meaning,  and  these  I  commit  to  memory.  It  is  by  study 
ing  language  in  this  manner  that  I  have  acquired  a  vocab- 
uiary  which  I  feel  confident,  though  I  am  but  nineteen 

13* 


150  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

years  old,  none  of  my  own  age  can  equal,  and  few  older 
can  excel ;  and,  what  is  an  equal  satisfaction  to  me,  not  a 
soul  of  all  the  common  herd  of  Slowville  has  a  suspicion 
that  I  am  in  possession  of  this  linguistic  power.  The  full 
ness  of  time  for  a  public  disclosure  of  my  talents  has  not 
yet  arrived.  You  only  share  this  secret  with  me." 

"You  have  found  a  very  excellent  method  of  philologi 
cal  investigation,"  commented  the  lawyer  handing  him 
back  the  books;  "and  as  you  desire  it,  I  will  keep  the 
secret  of  your  acquisitions.  But  it  appears  to  me  you  lay 
more  store  by  words  than  ideas,  for  which  words  are  only 
the  vehicle  of  expression/' 

"  It's  the  vehicle  that  carries  the  load,  not  the  load  the 
vehicle,"  quickly  put  in  Dibbs;  "and  before  the  load  can 
be  carried  you  must  first  get  the  vehicle.  Is  not  that  cor 
rect  logic?" 

"  Your  argument  is  a  sound  one,"  rejoined  the  lawyer 
after  a  pause,  during  which  he  had  looked  at  his  watch 
and  suddenly  risen  to  his  feet  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
has  too  long  delayed  the  object  of  his  call.  "Dibbs,  I 
should  like  to  listen  further  to  your  admirable  conversa 
tion,  and  hope  soon  to  have  a  suitable  opportunity.  Just 
now  I  wish  to  engage  your  services  in  a  little  matter  that 
will  be  of  a  pecuniary  advantage  to  you  and  a  professional 
one  to  me.  My  past  experience  of  your  valuable  assist 
ance  in  matters  more  trivial,  combined  with  the  clearer 
insight  into  your  ability  which  I  have  just  gained,  con 
vinces  me  that  I  can  implicitly  trust  your  secrecy  and 
fidelity  in  the  present  case.  To  come  to  the  point  at  once, 
for  fear  of  interruption  :  you  remember  the  man  you  con 
fidentially  described  to  me  this  morning  as  coming  here 
last  night  and  disappearing  in  so  mysterious  a  manner? 
Have  you  any  suspicions  as  to  who  he  is?" 

"Yes,  and  suspicions  evidently  well  founded,  too," 
said  Dibbs,  shaking  his  head  with  a  mysterious  nod,  his 
left  eye  half  closed  and  the  other  significantly  fixed  on 
his  companion's  face;  "and  judging  from  Mr.  Silas  Gag- 
ger's  manner  of  entering  your  office  this  morning,  I  am 
free  to  express  the  opinion  that  he  also  has  his  sus 
picions." 

"Correct,  as  usual,"  rejoined  the  lawyer,  laying  his  fat 


IN  WHICH  DIBBS  REVEALS  HIMSELF.          151 

hand  confidentially  on  the  young  man's  shoulder ;  "  and, 
Dibbs,"  lowering  his  voice  to  his  usual  tragic  whisper,  "  I 
want  you  to  confirm  or  allay  these  suspicions  for  me  as 
soon  as  possible.  You  understand?  For  me." 

"  Your  purpose  in  its  entirety  sensibly  percolates  my 
receptive  brain.  You,  the  lawyer  very  recently  retained 
by  the  aggrieved  party,  the  plaintiff  hereafter  mentioned, 
wish  to  test  my  detective  ability.  William  Dibbs  is  to 
track  the  mysterious  stranger  to  his  hiding-place  and 
establish  his  identity,  and  reveal  it  to  Rader  Craft,  Esq., 
alone,  who  will  make  use  of  the  information  solely  in  a 
professional  manner,  to  be  hereafter  determined  by  the 
liberality  displayed  by  the  injured  husband,  Mr.  Silas 
Gagger,  whose  supposititious  cause  you  heard  me  present 
ing*  to  the  jury  as  you  entered  yonder  door." 

"  Dibbs,  your  penetrative  powers  are  wonderful  !  You 
are  a  lawyer  natus,  not  fit — born,  not  made.  I  could  not 
have  described  the  present  situation  of  affairs  half  so 
well." 

Craft  rubbed  his  hands  with  such  a  beaming  smile,  so  en 
thusiastic,  so  encouraging,  that  Dibbs'  eyes  were  fixed  with 
instant  resolution,  which  expressed  itself  in  the  dogged 
set  of  his  head,  the  contracted  brows,  the  threatening 
eyes  and  the  tightly-compressed  lips. 

"  Dibbs,"  went  on  the  lawyer  with  a  gracious  and  some 
what  deferential  wave  of  his  hand,  "  I  perceive  it  is  better 
I  should  leave  you  to  follow  the  bent  of  your  own  genius 
in  this  matter.  Suggestions  to  one  of  your  quick  appre 
hension,  I  feel  conscious,  would  be  superfluous.  Can  I 
not  already,  even  this  instant,  read  success  in  the  light 
ning-flash  of  your  eye?  Dibbs,  I  reiterate  my  previous 
remark :  I  am  surprised  at  your  singular  intelligence — 
your  rare  capacity.  You  have  wonderfully  educated 
yourself.  You  are  a  self-made  marvel — an  intellectual 
pyramid — a  moral  sphynx." 

"  The  mysterious  stranger,"  said  Dibbs,  slowly  folding 
his  arms  and  speaking  with  a  dramatic  voice,  "shall  no 
longer  be  a  mystery,  magnifying  by  his  secret  movements  the 
danger  he  threatens  to  the  peace  of  your  honorable  client. 
Ah  ha  !"  starting  forward  and  throwing  out  his  arms  on 
a  line  with  his  couching  head,  and  fixing  his  eyes  intently 


152  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

upon  the  wall  opposite;  "  I  see  it  all !  This  domestic  and 
spectacular  drama  moves  before  me — ever}7  character  dis 
tinct,  every  act  consecutive.  Silas  Gagger,  the  suspicious 
yet  cautious  husband,  has  left  his  ancestral  dwelling  and 
departed  from  the  village  to  give  free  scope  for  the  com 
ing  investigation  already  inaugurated  by  the  course  of 
justice,  represented  by  yourself.  The  mysterious  stranger 
must  be  lurking  in  this  vicinity,  watching  his  opportunity 
for  a  stolen  interview.  He  has  already  seen  the  husband's 
departure,  and  will  undoubtedly  visit  the  farm-house  to 
night.  His  evil  eyes  e'en  now  do  gloat  over  the  beauty 
of  those  two  lovely  females.  Let  him  beware,  for  I 
shall  be  there  to  watch  him,  hovering  invisibly  about  his 
path — an  avenging  demon  to  him,  a  guardian  angel  to 
them." 

These  words,  uttered  in  a  tone  so  sepulchral,  sounded 
indeed  like  a  sentence  of  doom  upon  the  disturber  of 
domestic  happiness. 

"  Capital !  capital !"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  giving  vent 
to  an  enthusiasm  strangely  unusual  with  him,  by  catching 
the  other's  hand  in  both  his  own  and  heartily  shaking  it. 
"  With  such  a  head  as  yours  to  direct,  and  a  heart  so  bold 
to  execute,  what  circumstance,  even  unforeseen  though  it 
be,  could  prevent  our  complete  success?  Capital !  capital ! 
You  will  begin  your  investigations  to-night?" 

"My  investigations  in  this  important  matter,"  rejoined 
Dibbs  with  a  polite  bow,  "were  begun  last  night.  I  shall 
continue  them  to-night — with  what  result  you  shall  know 
before  the  midnight  hour,  I  ween,  to  speak  poetically 
and  precisely  at  the  same  time." 

"  Dibbs,  my  dear  young  fellow,  you  have  my  best  wishes 
for  your  success,"  said  the  lawyer,  again  vigorously  shak 
ing  the  hand  of  his  companion  ami  going  toward  the  door 
by  which  he  had  entered.  "  Oh,  here !  I  declare,  I  had 
almost  forgotten  it,"  quickly  taking  a  letter  from  his 
pocket  and  thrusting  it  into  Dibbs'  hand.  *'  Here  is  a  let 
ter  from  a  client  of  mine  to  Miss  Aziel  Loyd.  If  you 
should  have  an  opportunity  to  give  it  to  her  unobserved, 
and  see  her  read  it  and  note  its  effect  upon  her  in  her 
looks,  her  expressions  and  her  actions,  and  then  bring 
.to  me  a  detailed  account  of  vour  observations,  that,  too, 


IN  WHICH  DIBBS  REVEALS  HIMSELF.  153 

would  be  of  pecuniary  advantage  to  you,  Dibbs,  and  of 
professional  usefulness  to  me.  You  understand  ?" 

"The  object  of  speech  were  indeed  poorly  obtained 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  did  I  not  compre 
hend  language  so  simple/'  said  Dibbs,  deftly  hiding  the 
letter  in  his  pocket  with  a  smile  so  cunning  and  confident 
that  Rader  Craft  positively  felt  his  ponderous  heart  leap 
for  joy  at  the  certainty  of  so  soon  learning  the  effect  of 
his  loving  epistle. 

In  fact,  so  bewildered  was  he  for  the  moment  by  this 
thrilling  anticipation  that  he  forgot  the  door-steps,  and 
stumbling  forward  fell  upon  the  ground,  whence  Dibbs, 
stifling  every  indication  of  his  merriment,  assisted  him  to 
regain  his  feet. 

"  The  law  of  gravitation  is  inexorable,"  smiled  Dibbs. 
"  The  lawyer  and  the  client  it  treats  alike." 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Craft,  planting  himself  firmly  on  his 
feet  and  trying  to  regain  his  bland  smile,  despite  the  seri 
ous  rent  in  his  clothes.  "And  you  might  add,  without 
fear  of  contradiction,  that  in  morals  as  well  as  in  physics 
it  is  easier  to  fall  than  to  rise — to  fail  than  to  succeed." 

He  limped  away  in  the  direction  of  his  office,  not  a  little 
chagrined  at  the  spectacle  he  made  of  himself  to  the 
women  in  the  tavern-kitchen,  whose  noses,  pressed  against 
the  window-panes,  greeted  him  as  he  looked  confusedly 
around  to  see  who  might  have  seen  him  fall. 

Dibbs  waited  until  the  lawyer  had  disappeared  in  his 
sanctum  ;  then  he  went  back  into  the  bar-room,  and  lock- 
ing  the  outer  door,  he  betook  himself,  with  strange  slow 
ness,  to  his  dinner.  The  corned-beef  and  cabbage,  his 
favorite  dish — and  no  foe  to  his  easy  digestion — failed  to 
put  any  edge  upon  his  appetite.  What  was  food  to  him, 
when  his  heart  was  overwhelmed  with  the  joy  that,  now 
the  lawyer  had  gone,  could  flash  unsuspected  into  his  eyes 
— a  joy  born  of  the  anticipation  of  this  very  evening  be 
ing  face  to  face  with  Aziel  Loyd  ?  Aziel  Loyd  !  He 
only  breathed  the  name,  yet  he  felt  his  heart,  at  even  tin's 
slight  expression,  bounce  and  thump  in  his  breast  until  he 
feared  lest  it  should  lose  its  proper  place  therein  and  go 
gyrating  through  his  entire  anatomy.  He  ate  his  meal 
with  a  rapidity  that  pleased  the  women,  but  with  a  silence 


154  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

that  aggravated  them.  To  all  their  questions  as  to  who 
had  been  in  the  bar-room  that  morning  and  what  news  he 
had  learned  from  them,  and,  last  and  most  important  of 
all,  what  the  lawyer  had  come  for,  Dibbs  returned  an 
swers  so  short  and  unsatisfactory  as  to  elicit  the  most  em 
phatic  opinion  as  to  his  stupidity.  For  once  he  remained 
master  of  both  the  situation  and  his  temper,  and  went 
back  to  his  post  sole  possessor  of  his  secrets  and  his  in 
tentions. 

Once  again  in  the  bar-room,  he  turned  the  key  in  the 
door  that  communicated  with  the  house,  and  drawing  down 
the  window-shades  prepared  to  execute  a  little  'strategy  on 
his  own  part. 

"  Lawyers,"  he  soliloquized  as  he  held  the  letter  over  a 
little  jet  of  steam  that  issued  from  the  bubbling  kettle  on 
the  shelf  behind  the  bar,  aare  proverbial  for  their  know 
ledge  of  human  nature.  Of  course  they  are  the  only  men 
in  the  world  who  can  read  character  at  sight.  Now,  Rader 
Craft,  Esq.,  thinks  himself  a  shrewd  reader  of  men,  doesn't 
he?  For  instance,  he  takes  me  for  a  noodle.  Perhaps  I 
am,  but  not  at  this  present  speaking,  I  should  say;  for 
perceiving  this  mucilage  has  grown  soft  under  the  tender 
influence  of  this  steam,  I  am  compelled  to  open  this  letter, 
notwithstanding  the  scruples  a  noodle  is  supposed  to  pos 
sess.  Having  thus  opened  it,  I  give  way  to  my  laudable 
curiosity,  and  read  it." 

He  did  so,  with  his  chuckling  face  close  to  the  sheet, 
eager  to  drink  in  every  word  thereon.  The  first  few  sen 
tences  confused  him.  He  could  not  get  at  their  meaning. 
He  re-read  them  with  a  better  comprehension  after  he  had 
examined  the  letter  and  read  the  closing  paragraphs.  It 
was  a  love-letter  he  saw  full  well — a  love-letter  to  Aziel 
Loyd — written  by  the  lawyer ;  but  in  whose  interest?  The 
question  staggered  him  but  for  an  instant.  A  jealous  light 
came  into  his  eyes  as  he  again  perused  the  letter,  his  hands 
shaking,  his  breath  coming  thick  and  fast.  As  he  went 
along,  muttering  each  word,  his  face  grew  darker,  for  his 
suspicions  were  more  and  more  confirmed.  Now,  throwing 
the  letter  upon  the  counter,  he  thrust  both  hands  in  his 
hair  and  sank  down  into  his  chair  with  a  great  groan,  to 
which  the  mocking-bird  responded  with  a  sound  as  doleful. 


WILLIAM  DIBBS'   NIGHT   ADVENTURE.         155 

"  Ah,  Spike,  you  may  well  groan  for  me !"  said  Dibbs, 
looking  up  at  the  bird  with  a  heavy  sigh.  "Shed  tears, 
too,  if  you  can,  for  my  abject  misery.  For  what  greater 
calamity  can  befall  a  man,  Spike  my  boy,  than  not  only 
loving  hopelessly  himself,  but — oh,  a  thousand  times  worse! 
— seeing  the  object  of  his  undying  affection  about  to  become 
the  promised  bride  of  another  ?" 

Again  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  emitted 
several  groans,  less  violent  than  the  first,  to  which  the 
bifd  responded  with  a  like  decrease  of  animation.  After 
a  silence  of  another  moment,  Dibbs  rose  slowly  to  his  feet 
with  despair  on  every  feature.  He  resealed  the  letter  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket  with  a  savage  thrust,  much  as  he  might 
have  buried  a  dagger  there.  Then  he  turned  to  Spike, 
who  was  slyly  blinking  at  him,  and  said,  in  a  subdued 
voice, 

"  The  secret  I  have  discovered,  most  noble  bird,  fills  my 
heart  with  woe.  The  lawyer,  Spike,  is  my  rival — my  deadly 
nuptial  foe!  His  letter  here  proves  himself  to  be  his  own 
client,  and  deeply  in  love  with —  Forgive  me,  Spike  !  I 
cannot  breathe  her  sacred  name  even  to  you,  for  she  is  the 
woman — the  Venus  de  Medici — I  adore,  ay,  madly  wor 
ship  !  But,  Spike,"  speaking  with  sudden  energy  and 
striking  the  counter  with  his  fist  as  he  spoke,  "he  shall 
not  have  her.  This  very  night  I  will  file  a  bill  in  equity 
against  him  that  will  for  ever  bar  his  suit !" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  NIGHT'S  ADVENTURES  OF    WILLIAM  DIBBS. 

IT  generally  falls  to  the  lot  of  men  to  have  a  hopeless 
passion  once  in  their  lives.  Certainly  such  was  the 
case  with  poor  Dibbs,  who  now  spent  a  most  melancholy 
afternoon  in  analyzing  both  the  extent  of  his  love  for 
Aziel  Loyd,  and  how  impossible  it  was  of  fruition.  Yet 
he  seemed  to  take  a  sad  delight  in  torturing  himself  with 
the  infinite  expansion  of  his  love  for  her  and  the  insur 
mountability  of  its  accomplishment. 


156  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"Oh,  if  it  were  only  something  else,"  he  groaned, 
walking  about  the  bar-room,  "that  reared  this  barrier 
between  us,  then  might  I  hope.  Had  wealth  or  station, 
parents  or  friends,  opposed  this  union,  then  might  I  have 
conquered  each  and  all  of  them.  But  who,  though  he 
love  with  the  power  of  an  archangel,  can  bring  bark  the 
flight  of  years  and  make  the  matron  a  maiden  again  ? 
Or  who  can  hurry  onward  the  slow-revolving  wheel  of 
time  and  give  to  youth  the  prime  of  manhood?  Alas, 
alas,  Aziel — dearest  Aziel  !"  he  exclaimed,  clasping  liis 
hands  and  looking  up  at  the  ceiling,  as  if  she  were  there 
suspended  in  some  angelic  form.  "  Time,  that  most  pow 
erful  enemy  of  man,  has  separated  us  for  ever  from  that 
union  of  hands  in  which  my  only  hope  of  happiness  con 
sists.  The  great  and  impassable  gulf  of  years  is  between 
us !  I  cannot  come  to  you,  nor  you  to  me  !" 

Dropping  his  linked  hands  in  front  of  him,  he  held 
them  together  in  a  maddened  grip,  and,  with  head  thrown 
far  down  upon  his  breast,  he  stalked  about  the  room,  grit 
ting  his  teeth  and  rolling  his  eyes  with  frenzv. 

While  in  this  paroxysm  of  despair  he  chanced,  as  he 
passed  near  the  window,  to  lift  his  eyes.  They  fell  upon 
the  form  of  the  lawyer,  who  was  walking  with  majestic 
air  down  the  street. 

"Villain!"  exclaimed  Dibbs  in  the  hoarsest  of  whis 
pers,  seizing  a  cane  from  the  corner  and  bringing  it  to  his 
shoulder  with  a  quick  and  deadly  aim — for,  sighting  along 
the  ferule,  one  could  see  it  point  directly  to  the  lawyer's 
heart — "revenge  prompts  me  to  take  thy  warmly-flowing 
blood — to  still  for  ever  the  tumultuous  beating  of  thy 
heart — to  stifle  in  eternal  silence  thy  throbbing  bosom,  so 
i'u  11  of  love  for  her  I  worship  in  the  long  and  weary  day, 
and  in  the  longer  and  wearier  night!  But  no,"  suddenly 
throwing  aside  the  cane  and  resuming  his  tragic  pace; 
"  live  on,  mine  enemy — live  on  and  know  thyself  what 
it  is  to  despair — to  find  thy  love  turn  to  ashes  in  thy 
very  hands — to  see  thyself  rejected,  scorned,  despised, 
the  canker  of  unrequited  love  consuming  for  ever  thine 
unhappy  soul !" 

The  clock  and  the  mocking-bird  here  interrupted  him, 
the  one  by  striking,  the  other  by  emitting  a  short  whistle 


WILLIAM  DIBBS'  NIGHT  ADVENTURE.         157 

for  every  stroke  of  the  clock.  Dibbs  glanced  at  the 
clock ;  and  seeing  that  it  was  the  hour  of  four,  he  imme 
diately  set  about  regaining  his  composure,  which  he  did 
after  several  sighs  and  mocking  laughs.  Calm  now,  he 
betook  himself  to  the  careful  perusal  of  a  little  book 
which  he  drew  from  his  pocket.  It  was  a  manual  of  eti 
quette,  and,  unlike  most  books  of  that  kind,  was  written 
by  a  competent  person.  This  manual  Dibbs  knew  almost 
by  heart;  and  if  he  were  an  habitue  of  Slowville  society 
— which  he  was  not — he  would,  as  he  himself  expressed 
it,  astonish  the  natives  by  his  manners.  But  never  being 
invited  to  any  social  gathering,  and  being  shunned  by  the 
better  class-  of  villagers  because  of  his  occupation,  Dibbs 
never  had  any  opportunity  to  display  his  knowledge  of 
manners  in  the  company  of  ladies.  He  had  practiced 
these  forms  of  etiquette,  nevertheless,  just  as  he  was 
doing  now,  with  imaginary  females  in  the.  chairs  about 
him,  and  he  went  from  one  chair  to  another  with  a  grace 
fulness  of  carriage  and  easy  inclination  of  the  head,  drop 
ping  a  compliment  here  and  an  observation  there,  as  if 
he  were  indeed  a  frequent  guest  in  the  highest  social 
circles,  and  this  present  circle  were  the  highest  of  Slow 
ville  society. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Loyd,"  he  was  saying  as  he  made 
a  bow  in  front  of  one  of  the  chairs.  "I  beg  pardon  for 
presenting  myself,  but  I  come  at  the  solicitation  of  Rader 
Craft,  Esq.,  attorney  and  counselor-at-law,  who  commis 
sioned  me  to  bear  to  your  most  excellent  self  this  letter," 
which,  at  these  words,  he  took  from  his  pocket  and  ex 
tended  toward  her  with  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head  ; 
and  then,  after  a  pause,  during  which'  she  was  supposed 
to  be  reading  the  letter,  he  seated  himself  in  a  chair  in 
response  to  her  invitation. 

Holding  now  his  hat  gracefully  in  his  hand,  he  entered 
into  a  very  animated  conversation  with  Miss  Loyd,  en 
deavoring  to  make  it  as  interesting  to  her  as  possible  by 
telling  all  the  news  of  the  village,  which  he  garnished  in 
his  own  inimitable  way,  so  that  its  savor  was  largely  in 
creased  by  his  spicy  additions.  This  rehearsal  being  fin 
ished  to  his  satisfaction — and  during  it  all  he  had  success 
fully  stifled  any  manifestation  of  his  love — Dibbs  locked 

14 


158  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

the  bar-room ;  and  giving  the  key  to  the  landlady,  Mrs. 
yusan  Boozer,  widow,  who  tended  the  bar  daring  his 
absence,  he  went  over  to  the  lawyer's  office. 

The  door  of  "The  Legal  Refuge"  he  found,  as  usual, 
unlocked.  He  opened  it  and  entered,  and  immediately  set 
about  the  object  of  Ins  coming.  This  was  to  copy  some 
thing  out  of  a  certain  one  of  the  lawyer's  books,  which  he 
had  already  seized  from  one  of  the  shelves,  and  whose 
leaves  he  was  rapidly  turning  over.  He  was  not  long  in 
finding  the  desired  place,  as  a  low  whistle  of  exultation 
indicated.  And  now,  with  a  smile  as  cunning  as  any  with 
which  the  owner  of  the  book  had  ever  looked  into  it, 
Dibbs  copied  several  paragraphs  on  one  of  the  lawyer's 
sheets  of  brief-paper. 

"This  kind  of  writing-paper  will  carry  judicial  weight 
as  regards  the  contents,"  commented  Dibbs  with  a  chuckle 
as  he  folded  up  his  manuscript  and  returned  the  book  to 
its  place.  "  Could  any  but  sound  law  be  written  on  a 
lawyer's  brief-paper?  That  would  depend,  perhaps,  on 
both  the  lawyer  and  the  judge.  But  in  this  case  there  is 
no  doubt  about  the  law — at  least  until  the  next  legislature 
meets.  How  those  wise  and  good  men  may  alter  it,  the 
— devil  only  knows." 

He  left  the  office  as  boldly  as  he  had  entered  it,  and 
sought  his  own  room  under  the  plain  roof  of  the  Green 
Tree  Inn.  Here,  by  the  aid  of  a  couple  of  candles  upon 
the  bureau,  he  began  to  prepare  himself  for  his  evening 
call,  with  a  scrupulous  attention  to  every  detail  which 
might  well  have  become  a  groom  upon  his  nuptial  morn 
ing.  As  he  donned  each  article  of  carefully-selected  ap 
parel  he  hummed  a  ditty,  now  gay,  now  mournful,  one 
moment  chided  and  another  applauded  himself,  sighing 
and  groaning,  and  smiling  and  laughing,  by  turns,  accord 
ing  to  the  current  of  his  thoughts,  which  were  an  odd 
commingling  of  love  and  jealousy,  ambition  and  cunning, 
hope  and  despair,  joy  and  fear. 

u  William  Dibbs,"  he  soliloquized,  putting  a  little  dash 
of  perfumery  upon  his  handkerchief  and  surveying  him 
self  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  "I  am  proud  to  say  you 
look  like  a  gentleman,  and  that  is  more  than  can  be  said 
of  many  who  make  exertions  in  that  direction.  If  clean- 


WILLIAM  DIBBS'  NIGHT  ADVENTURE.          159 

liness  is  next  to  godliness,  there  is  also  much  of  the  saint 
in  your  present  appearance.  Ah,  Aziel  !"  with  a  sigh,  as 
he  gave  a  finishing  touch  of  precision  to  his  necktie,  "  if 
you  were  only  entering  the  path  of  youth,  or  I  meander 
ing  along  the  highway  of  manhood,  what  joy  might  be 
our  heavenly  lot  in  this  dreary  world,  where  the  phantom 
of  bliss  ever  allures  with  falsest  hopes  the  panting  and 
famishing  heart !  But  as  William  says,  'Oft  expectation 
fail,  and  most  oft  there  where  it  most  promises." 

With  two  mighty  sighs  that  extinguished  the  candles 
he  dashed  the  imaginary  tears  from  his  eyes  and  went 
down  to  his  supper ;  for,  however  famishing  his  heart 
might  be,  -there  was  always  one  organ  in  his  anatomy  in  a 
continual  state  of  want,  but  which  his  prodigious  and 
frequent  mastication  failed  to  satisfy. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Dibbs,"  began  Mrs.  Susan  Boozer,  with  a 
wink  to  her  sisters,  as  the  young  man  took  his  seat  at  the 
table  with  a  familiar  greeting  and  a  confident  air,  and 
proceeded  to  help  himself  bountifully  from  the  several 
dishes,  "  what  gal  are  you  goin'  to  fool  'round  this  even- 
in'?  'Pears  to  me  you're  slicked  up  in  purple  an'  fine 
linen  worse  nor  them  King  Solomon  tells  about  in  the 
Good  Book." 

"Whew!  What  a  heavenly  smell!"  exclaimed  one 
sister.  "  La,  Mr.  Dibbs !  you  must  have  got  a  whole 
geranium-bush  tucked  away  in  that  'ere  coat  o'  your'n  !" 

"  I  never  saw  Mr.  Dibbs  look  so  killing,"  put  in  the 
other  sister,  with  an  ogling  smile  at  him.  "It's  really 
dangerous  for  him  to  go  out  to-night.  The  girls  will  die 
of  envy  at  the  very  sight  of  him." 

To  all  of  which  badinage  Dibbs  made  the  following  re 
ply,  which,  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  was  not 
couched  in  that  pure  or  studied  English  with  which  he 
addressed  the  lawyer  or  expressed  himself  in  private. 
"Take  me  for  a  noodle,  ladies,"  he  said,  looking  at  them 
each  in  turn  with  a  broad  grin,  and  redoubling  the  celer 
ity  of  his  knife  and  fork,  "  I  am  got  up  in  style,  that's  a 
fact.  Am  glad  you  like  my  looks.  Clothes  will  tell, 
though.  They  are  a  blessing  as  well  as  a  delight.  I 
know  a  woman  who  was  saved  from  drowning  once  by 
her  hoop-skirt  holding  her  up  in  the  water.  Another 


160  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

saved    her    skull,  in  a  fall,  by  a  thick    bunch  of   back 
hair — not  her  own,  of  course." 

"  You're  as  smart  as  you  are  handsome,"  said  the 
ogling  sister.  "The  parson  ought  to  get  you  for  his 
daughter.  She  thinks  in  Greek  and  talks  in  Latin, 
they  say." 

"  You  don't  say  she  thinks,  do  you?"  rejoined  Dibbs, 
emptying  his  second  cup  of  tea  at  a  draught.  "Well, 
that's  where  she  beats  people  in  general.  They  talk 
without  thinking." 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  were  goin'  ?"  suddenly  asked 
Mrs.  Boozer,  hoping  tails  to  throw  him  off  his  guard. 

"Just  now,"  gayly  answered  Dibbs,  his  knife  and  fork 
making  a  final  skirmish  on  his  plate,  "I  am  going  to 
leave  the  table ;  next,  I  am  going  to  leave  the  house  ; 
and  then  I  am  going  to  leave  my  respects  at  the  first 
house  where  the  young  ladies  are  out.  And  now,  hav 
ing  said  '  Going  '  three  times,  I  once  say  '  Gone,'  and  bid 
you  all  good-evening  and  good-night!" 

AVith  a  little  waving  flourish  of  his  hand  to  each  of 
them  he  skipped  across  the  floor,  caught  up  his  coat  and 
hat  and  cane,  and  disappeared  with  a  final  grin  through 
the  outer  door. 

"  He's  a  fool,  if  there  ever  was  one,"  said  Mrs.  Boozer, 
elevating  her  contemptuous  nose  over  her  third  cup. 

"  Strange  to  me  he  has  souse  enough  to  tend  the  bar," 
commented  sister  number  one,  her  thin  lip  curling  with 
derision  over  an  ample  slice  of  bread,  in  which  her  teeth 
were  making  a  serrated  half  moon. 

"  Don't  you  be  so  sure  he's  a  fool,"  rejoined  the  ogling 
sister.  "  I'm  much  mistaken,  or  he  knows  more  than  he 
lets  on.  And  if  he  does  look  green,  he  may  for  all  that 
be  ripe,  like  some  apples.  But  what  puzzles  me  is  where 
he  gets  all  the  money  he  spends  on  clothes.  They  must 
cost  more  than  his  wages  amount  to." 

"  \Vell,  one  thing  is  certain — he  doesn't  steal  it  from 
me,"  spoke  Mrs.  Boozer  with  energy.  "  I  have  had  my 
eyes  on  him  all  the  time.  Many's  the  marked  note  and 
silver  piece  I've  put  in  the  till  these  last  two  years,  and 
never  one  of  them  have  I  missed.  No,  I  will  say  that 
for  him :  Bill  Dibbs  is  honest !" 


WILLIAM  DIBBS '  NIGHT  AD  VENTURE.          161 

While  this  discussion  as  to  his  character  went  on,  Dibbs, 
with  anything  but  complimentary  remarks  upon  the  women 
he  had  left,  was  cautiously  making  his  way  along  the  vil 
lage  street,  screening  himself  from  observation  by  walking 
in  the  darkest  places  and  dodging  behind  trees  when  any 
body  came  in  his  direction.  It  was  only  when  he  had 
passed  beyond  the  village  outskirts,  and  found  himself  on 
the  open  road,  that  he  relaxed  this  excessive  watchfulness. 
Now  he  began  to  fix  his  thoughts  more  intently  upon  the 
business  in  hand,  and  put  on  at  the  same  time  a  new  pair 
of  lavender  kids,  which  he  treated  carefully  and  tenderly. 
11  For,"  said  he,  "  new  gloves  are  like  maidens'  favors : 
they  come  the  easier  by  coaxing." 

It  was  a  dark  night.  The  moon  would  not  rise  till  late, 
and  a  cloudy  sky  shut  out  the  stars.  Dibbs  had  naught 
to  guide  him  save  the  dull  line  of  the  road — visible  only 
a  i'ew  feet  ahead — in  the  middle  of  which  his  keen  eyes 
helped  him  keep  his  way.  On  he  walked  with  a  bold 
tread,  swinging  his  stout  cane,  now  in  front  and  now  on 
either  side  of  him,  cutting  the  black  air  with  such  heavy 
strokes  that  no  one  could  have  suddenly  -come  upon  him 
with  any  advantage.  The  farther  he  left  the  village  be 
hind,  the  more  frequent  and  vigorous  became  the  sweeps 
of  his  cane,  as  if  he  indeed  feared  assassination  at  any 
moment.  Whether  it  was  because  his  own  principles 
taught  him  to  be  suspicious,  or  he  was  naturally  super 
stitious,  his  mind  now  became  filled  with  strange  fancies 
and  apprehensions.  The  silence  and  the  solitude  began  to 
fill  his  ears  with  mysterious  sounds  and  his  eyes  with 
blood-curdling  phantoms.  There  were  stifled  voices  in 
the  air  and  hollow  groans  behind  the  fences  that  skirted 
the  road.  The  bushes  took  on  the  indistinct  yet  tangible 
forms  of  crouching  men  and  beasts  of  prey,  while  the 
trees  towering  along  the  way  became  giant  spectres, 
casting  their  huge  arms  athwart  the  gloom,  that  came 
down  upon  him  now  as  black  as  the  funeral  pall  he  re 
membered  to  have  seen  stretched  upon  his  mother's  bier. 
His  mind  suddenly  began  to  be  invaded  by  some  awful 
horror.  Despite  all  his  attempts  at  reasoning,  his  imagi 
nation  filled  him  with  direful  apprehensions.  What  if 
some  evil  spirit  were  following  him,  waiting  only  a  moment. 

14  *  L 


162  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

more  to  fall  upon  him  and  crush  him  into  a  shapeless  mass 
or  hurl  him,  powerless  and  speechless,  into  some  yawning 
chasm,  that  might  open  here  in  this  very  road,  and  swal 
low  him  up  in  sulphurous  fire?  This  thought  paralyzed 
him.  Alone  and  in  the  dark  with  a  ghost!  He  stood 
motionless  with  terror,  his  knees' trembling,  his  teeth  chat 
tering  and  the  cold  perspiration  trickling  down  his  fore 
head. 

So  overcome  was  he  that  he  would  have  sunk  down 
in  the  road  at  the  first  breath  of  wind  through  sheer  fear, 
had  not  the  sound  of  footsteps  coming  on  behind  him 
startled  him  into  the  consciousness  that  there  might  yet 
be  safety  in  flight.  Fly  he  did,  leaping  along  the  ground 
with  a  speed  that  carried  him  on  like  the  fleetest  athlete, 
every  muscle  strained,  his  eyes  distended,  and  his  nostrils 
dilated  with  quivering  breath.  On — on,  he  ran,  as  if  the 
pursuing  hand  of  that  nameless  Thing  behind  him  were 
just  about  to  clutch  him.  Past  Nicholas  Grundle's  hut — 
that  dreaded  place — he  flew,  his  heart  beating  the  louder 
here  lest  from  the  grave  in  yonder  spot  so  near  one  more 
spirit  might  rise  to  pursue  him.  He  turned  never  so  much 
as  a  glance  to  see  what  might  follow  now,  for  ahead  of  him 
shone  in  the  distance  a  light  in  the  window  of  a  farm 
house.  Oh,  if  he  could  only  hold  out  to  reach  that  beacon 
of  safety!  Xo  light  to  the  mariner  in  a  storm,  his  ship 
driven  through  black  and  lashing  seas,  across  which  came 
the  boom  of  the  breaking  surf,  mingled  with  the  howling 
of  the  vengeful,  driving  wind,  was  ever  more  grateful  than 
was  this  light  to  Dibbs.  For  as  the  mariner,  with  a  cry 
of  joy,  now  heads  his  vessel  in  a  safe  course  again  and  feels 
his  fears  give  way  to  hope,  so  Dibbs,  nearing  this  light, 
began  to  take  courage,  and  slackening  his  pace  halted  an 
instant  to  listen  for  his  pursuer. 

He  heard  no  sound  save  his  own  rapid  and  labored 
breathing  and  the  thumping  of  his  frightened  heart.  He 
stood  still  and  listened  more  intently.  All  was  dark  and 
silent  as  his  own  room  at  midnight,  when,  startled  by  some 
strange  sound,  he  had  lain  shivering  in  bed  to  hear  it 
repeated.  For  a  moment  he  could  not  believe  he  had 
really  escaped  his  pursuer.  He  might  yet  be  stealing  on 
him  witl)  noiseless  step.  As  he  glanced  ahead,  and  saw 


WILLIAM  DIBBS'  NIGHT  ADVENTURE.          163 

he  was  now  at  the  entrance  of  the  farm-house  lane,  his 
courage,  which  the  proximity  of  the  farm-house  was  fast 
bringing  back  to  him,  suggested  that  perhaps  it  was  only 
his  imagination  that  had  frightened  him.  This,  however, 
was  an  insinuation  upon  the  strength  of  his  reflective 
faculties  that  he  could  not  for  an  instant  entertain  ;  so, 
stoutly  asserting  to  himself  that  he  had  been  pursued  and 
made  his  escape  by  his  superior  swiftness,  he  rearranged 
his  disordered  attire,  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face, 
and,  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand  to  cool  his  head,  walked 
slowly  up  to  the  farm-house. 

When  he  came  to  the  steps,  he  was  composed  enough 
to  act  with  his  usual  caution.  He  first  peeped  through 
the  window  to  see  if  the  mysterious  stranger  had  come 
before  him.  The  sight  of  the  two  women  sitting  alone 
made  him  all  amends  for  the  fright  he  had  experienced 
to  gain  this  precious  view  of  the  woman  whose  face, 
turned  in  his  direction,  seemed  to  dart  a  magnetic  thrill 
all  through  him.  No  greater  bliss,  he  thought,  could  he 
ever  desire  than  to  stand  here  all  night  and  M'atch  her 
with  his  eyes,  which,  longer  looking,  the  more  eagerly 
gazed.  A  noise  in  the  direction  of  the  barn  warned  him 
that  his  present  position  in  the  dark  might  be  perilous  to 
his  safety  and  success.  Yet  he  was  not  ready  to  go  in. 
Somehow,  he  began  to  be  as  afraid  to  enter  the  house  and 
speak  face  to  face  with  his  idol  as  he  was  to  stay  outside 
and  run  a  risk  in  watching  her.  At  last,  drumming  up 
his  "courage,  he  became  bold  enough  to  mount  the  steps. 
Then,  after  a  little  hesitation,  during  which  he  felt  his 
knees  growing  very  unsteady,  he  lifted  the  brass  knocker, 
and  holding  it  suspended  a  moment  at  last  let  it  drop 
with  a  sudden  relaxation  of  his  grasp. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  loud  noise  of  the  knocker  that  had 
startled  him  ;  for  when  Aziel  Loyd  opened  the  door,  she 
saw  him  standing  there  with  a  pale  face  and  frightened 
eyes.  He  looked  indeed  like  some  culprit  caught  in  the 
very  act.  Nor  was  her  own  countenance  at  first  without 
fear  as  she  shrank  back  and,  holding  the  door  midway 
open,  peered  cautiously  out  at  him.  But  soon  perceiving 
he  was  not  the  one  she  had  expected  to  see  standing  there, 
she  opened  the  door  wider  and  boldly  asked, 


164  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"  Who  are  yon,  and  what  do  you  want?" 

"Why,  don't  you  know  me,  Miss  Lord?"  lie  stam 
mered,  pulling  off  his  hat  and  looking  at  her,  as  he 
leaned  forward  with  something  between  a  grin  and  a  stare 
on  his  face.  "  I'm  Dibbs — Bill  Dibbs,  they  call  me.  I 
— I  stay  at  the  Green  Tree  Inn." 

"  Indeed?"  she  said,  regarding  him  with  an  indifference 
that  made  his  heart  sink  so  heavily  in  his  breast  that  he 
thought  it  never  would  come  up  again.  "And  what 
might  your  errand  be?  Whom  do  you  wish  to  see?" 

"  I — I  came  to  see — you,"  he  found  courage  to  say, 
though  falteringly,  as  he  fidgeted  with  his  hat,  and  began 
to  wish  himself  miles  away,  if  this  were  to  be  his  recep 
tion  on  coming  for  the  first  time  into  the  close  presence 
of  his  divinity. 

"  Came  to  see  me  f"  she  exclaimed,  looking  at  him  so 
sternly  that  his  eyes  drooped  sheepishly  away  from  her 
gaze.  "What  business  can  you  possibly  have  with  me?" 
Then,  speaking  in  a  more  encouraging  voice,  for  she  saw 
his  bashfulness  was  further  confusing  him,  "  Pray  come 
in  and  tell  me." 

He  stumbled  over  the  doorsill  in  his  agitation,  and 
followed  her  into  the  room*  with  a  crestfallen  air,  his 
bearing  as  starchless  as  his  wilted  collar.  So  disconcerted 
was  he  by  the  coolness  of  her  manner  that  he  failed  to 
hear  her  invitation  to  take  a  seat,  but  stood  gaping  at  her 
with  a  sickly  smile,  his  hat  meanwhile  rapidly  oscillating 
between  his  two  hands. 

"  Be  seated,  Mr.  Dibbs,  and  state  your  errand,"  she 
said,  unable  to  keep  from  smiling  at  the  odd  figure  he 
was  presenting.  "  Take  this  chair,"  pointing  to  one  near 
her;  and  then,  noticing  how  his  eyes  roved  restlessly  and 
with  suspicious  glances  about  the  room,  she  added,  with 
a  nod  of  encouragement,  "  You  can  be  perfectly  at  your 
ease  ;  we  are  alone." 

"  Isn't  Mrs.  Gagger  around  ?"  he  asked  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  drawing  a  pace  nearer  with  a  dramatic  stride, 
holding  his  finger  up  in  token  of  silence  and  throwing 
into  his  face  an  expression  of  extreme  caution. 

"You  needn't  fear  Mrs.  Gagger,"  she  replied  with  a 
little  laugh,  for  he  was  making  the  circuit  of  the  room  oil 


WILLIAM  DISCS'  NIGHT  ADVENTURE.         165 

tip  toe,  much  after  the  manner  of  heavy  villains  on  the 
stage.  "  She  has  gone  to  her  room,  and  will  not  interrupt 
us.  Do  sit  down  and  tell  me  why  you  have  come  to  see 
me.  Your  errand  must  be  a  very  important  one,  for  you 
are  evidently  much  excited. " 

He  silently  crossed  the  room  to  where  she  was  sitting, 
and  after  much  hesitation,  during  which  he  looked  at  her 
with  a  confusion  of  smiles,  glances  of  admiration  and 
faint  sighs  of  despair,  abruptly  seated  himself  beside  her. 
He  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not.  He  began  toying  with 
his  hat,  now  putting  it  on  the  floor,  now  holding  it  out 
stretched  in  his  hand,  and  now  resting  it  on  his  knees. 
All  the  while  his  face,  fixed  on  hers,  grew  sillier,  and  his 
feet  shuffled  in  and  out  from  under  his  chair. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  your  errand  ?"  queried  his  com 
panion  with  a  kindly  smile  that  raised  his  spirits  fifty  de 
grees,  and  made  him  feel  as  if  he  were  going  up  in  the  air 
and  his  chair  were  slipping  away  from  him. 

"Take  me  for  a  noodle,"  he  at  last  giggled  out,  letting 
his  hat  fall  upon  the  floor  and  catching  hold  of  the  sides 
of  his  chair.  "  I've  forgotten  what  I  came  here  for!  My 
head  is  whirling  all  around.  Don't  I  look  queer?" 

"  No,  you  look  very  harmless,"  she  rejoined  with  a  laugh, 
the  melodv  of  which  fell  upon  his  ears  like  a  heavenly 
strain,  and  suddenly  fortified  his  soul  and  made  his  heart 
beat  happily  with  the  thought  that  at  least  she  had  not  re 
pulsed  him.  No,  she  had  let  him  sit  so  near  her  he  could 
touch  her  hand  if  he  but  dared. 

"  I've  got  a  letter  for  you,"  he  tittered,  regaining 
somewhat  of  his  courage  and  hitching  his  chair  a  trifle 
closer  to  hers.  "  Here  it  is.  I  guess  you  know  who 
wrote  it."  With  his  face,  in  a  broad  grin,  still  fixed  on 
hers,  he  took  from  his  pocket  something  which  he  held 
out  to  her. 

"  I  should  hardly  call  that  a  letter,  Mr.  Dibbs,"  she 
said,  bursting  into  a  little  laugh,  which  drowned  his  last 
surviving  fear  of  her,  "  unless  you  carry  letters  in  your 
handkerchief." 

"  Take  me  for  a  noodle !"  he  exclaimed,  thrusting  his 
handkerchief  back  into  his  pocket  and  producing,  after 
much  fumbling,  the  letter.  "  I'm  kind  of  mixed  this 


166  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

evening,  as  Racier  Craft  would  say  of  a  poor  witness.  You 
see,  Miss  Loyd,  I  am  not  used  to  sitting  close  to  a  beauti 
ful  woman.  It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  were  somebody 
else." 

She  gave  him  a  gracious  smile  in  return  for  his  compli 
ment,  and  asking  him  to  excuse  her  for  a  moment,  she 
left  him  in  a  broad  and  happy  grin,  and  went  over  to  the 
lamp  to  read  the  letter.  Dibbs  was  all  eyes  now.  He 
watched  her  every  movement  and  expression  with  an 
interest  doubly  intensified  by  his  cunning  and  jealousy. 
He  inwardly  chuckled  at  the  thought  that  now  he  should 
know  if  she  loved  the  lawyer,  yet  the  apprehension  that 
perhaps  she  did  made  him  tremble  with  an  anxious  and 
curious  fear.  No  little  satisfaction  and  encouragement  to 
him  was  it  that  she  opened  the  letter  and  began 'to  read  it 
with  nothing  beyond  curiosity  in  her  face.  And  more 
pleased  still  was  he,  as  she  went  along,  to  see  how  com 
posedly  she  read  line  after  line  without  evincing  anv 
emotion  beyond  that  of  a  faint  smile  as  she  finished  the 
letter — a  smile  that  had,  he  saw  with  inward  joy,  a  touch 
of  weariness  and  sadness  in  it  as  it  lingered  upon  her 
thoughtful  countenance.  She  quietly  put  the  letter  in  her 
pocket,  much  as  if  it  were  one  on  some  ordinary  business, 
and  with  a  face  entirely  free  from  suspicion  she  resumed 
her  seat  by  Dibbs  and  asked, 

"  Did  Mr.  Craft  send  this  letter  by  you  because  he  ex 
pected  you  to  bring  back  the  reply  to  it  ?" 

"No,  I  can't  say  that  he  did,"  replied  Dibbs,  speaking 
with  an  assumed  hesitation,  by  which  he  hoped  to  excite 
her  curiosity,  and  thus  lead  the  conversation  into  the 
channel  he  wished.  "  But  it  struck  me  as  rather  strange 
that  he  wanted  me  to  bring  the  letter  instead  of  sending 
it  through  the  post-office." 

"  It  is  a  little  mysterious,"  she  said,  "  although  I  pre 
sume  he  had  some  good  reason  for  so  doing.  However, 
you  are  very  kind  indeed  to  come  so  long  a  distance,  on 
such  an  unimportant  errand." 

She  gave  Dibbs  a  thankful  smile  that  raised  flattering 
hopes  in  his  heart  and  quickened  his  desire  to  gain  more 
of  her  good-will  by  making  the  revelations  he  had  in 
store. 


WILLIAM  DIBBS'  NIGHT  ADVENTURE.         167 

"I  would  do  anything  for — for  you,"  he  stammered, 
blushing  under  the  fascination  of  her  glance.  "I — I 
always  like  to  please — the  ladies." 

"  It  is  certainly  very  good  in  you  to  take  such  an  inter 
est  in  a  stranger.  When  one  has  few  friends,  an  unex 
pected  one  is  certainly  an  agreeable  surprise." 

She  smiled  so  sweetly  on  him  now  that  he  no  longer 
hesitated  to  tell  her  what  he  knew.  But  just  how  best  to 
introduce  the  subject  he  was  at  a  loss,  and  lie  might  have 
altogether  failed  had  he  not  remembered  the  conduct  of 
the  lawyer  under  similar  circumstances.  So,  with  a  grave 
countenance,  a  few  preliminary  hems,  and  slowly  wiping 
his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  which  he  as  deliberately 
returned  to  his  pocket,  he  began,  his  eyes  fixed  solemnly 
on  her  and  his  voice  in  a  semi-whisper,  while  his  hands 
slowly  moved  with  warning  gestures  • 

"  There  are  a  great  many  mysterious  movements  trans 
piring  in  Slowville  at  the  present  time.  Strange  parties 
have  suddenly  appeared,  and  some  parties  have  as  sud 
denly  disappeared.  There  is  trouble — serious  trouble — 
brewing  in  certain  localities,  but  to  l>e  forewarned  is  to  be 
forearmed,  and  it  is  worse  than  folly  to  run  the  risk  of 
meeting  a  secret  enemy  in  the  dark  when  you  can  as  well 
approach  him  with  the  light  of  his  identity  shining  fully 
upon  him  ;  and  better  still  is  it  to  be  advised  beforehand 
of  his  plans." 

And  here  he  paused,  and  leaning  forward,  his  hands 
upon  his  knees,  looked  at  her  with  a  mysterious  yet  know 
ing  expression,  which,  as  he  intended  it  should,  instantly 
convinced  her  that  he  had  information  that  would  be  of 
service  to  her.  Aziel  Loyd,  concealing  her  surprise  under 
a  forced  smile  that  still  further  won  the  heart  of  Dibbs,  im 
mediately  resolved  to  find  out  what  he  knew,  at  the  same 
time  taking  care  to  give  him  no  clue  to  her  own  know 
ledge  of  recent  events. 

"  What  is  it  you  are  trying  to  conceal  from  me?"  she 
said  in  a  coaxing  tone,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm  and 
turning  up  to  him  her  softly-pleading  eyes.  "You  will 
surely  be  my  true  friend,  and  tell  me  what  danger  threat 
ens  me?" 

"  Will  you  always  be  a  friend  to  me  if  I  tell  3-011 ".'" 


168  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

asked  Dibbs,  trembling  under  her  touch,  and  eying  her 
hand  askance  with  a  wistful  look. 

"I  will   never  forget  your  kindness,"  she  said,  slowly. 
withdrawing  her  hand  ;  "  and  if  ever  I  can  repay  you  for 
it  in  any  way,  J  certainly  will  do  so." 

"It's  a  bargain  !"  exclaimed  Dibbs,  catching  her  hand 
and  shaking  it  with  vigor  ;  then,  letting  it  drop  as  sud 
denly  as  he.had  seized  it,  he  sat  bolt  upright  on  his  chair, 
his  confused  face  crimsoned  with  blushes.  "  Excuse  me  !" 
he  stammered.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  be  impolite,  but  I 
thought  I  could  talk  better  if  I — I  shook  hands  with 
you." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Dibbs,"  she  replied  with  an  arch  look, 
"you  certainly  need  not  apologize  for  shaking  my  hand. 
Isn't  it  the  token  of  friendship?  See!  I  will  shake  yours 
with  both  of  mine  fo  show  you  that  I  will  be  even  more 
of  a  friend  to  you  than  you  to  me ;"  and  she  took  his 
trembling  palm  in  hers  with  a  merry  little  laugh,  and 
shook  it  so  long  and  cordially  that  he  felt  his  heart 
dancing  with  joy.  "There,  now!"  she  said,  releasing 
him  ;  "  you  can  go  on  and  tell  me  just  as  little  or  as 
much  as  you  wish." 

His  tongue  was  fairly  loosened  now,  and  as  she  listened 
to  him  with  an  encouraging  smile  playing  about  the  sweetest 
lips  he  ever  saw,  he  told  her  of  the  visit  of  the  stranger  to 
the  Green  Tree  Inn,  his  conversation  there,  and  his  sub 
sequent  mysterious  disappearance.  Then,  oblivious  to  any 
allegiance  he  might  have  owed  to  Rader  Craft,  he  related 
how  that  morning  he  had  seen  Silas  Gagger  enter  the  law 
yer's  office,  and  thence  take  his  departure  for  the  noon  train 
eastward.  Without  waiting  for  his  listener  to  question 
him  as  to  the  conclusions  lie  had  drawn  from  all  these  cir 
cumstances,  the  glib  and  loquacious  Dibbs  made  the  fullest 
revelation  of  his  suspicions  as  to  the  identity  of  the  mys 
terious  stranger,  the  intentions  of  Silas  Gagger  and  the 
plans  of  Ilader  Craft,  winding  up  his  eloquent  recital  of 
facts  and  fancies  with  this  statement,  which  he  delivered 
with  an  authority  and  a  confidence  that  would  have  well 
become  a  judge  upon  the  bench  : 

"  But,  Miss  Loyd,  environed  as  your  mistress  is  by  these 
surroundings,  that  threaten  her  peace  and  happiness,  she 


WILLIAM  DIBBS'   NIGHT  ADVENTURE.         169 

need  not  despair  of  escape  from  the  toils  of  the  mercenary 
stranger,  the  designing  husband  or  the  plotting  lawyer. 
The  law  is  the  mighty  bulwark  under  whose  towering  form 
she  will  find  hope,  protection — ay,  safety  itself!  •  Behold  !" 
he  exclaimed,  his  eyes  flashing  and  his  hand  raised  aloft, 
displaying  several  sheets  of  paper,  which  he  had  drawn 
from  his  pocket  with  a  grand  flourish  ;  "  here  are  the  docu 
ments — the  very  statute  laws  made  in  this  case  and  pro 
vided.  These  will  guide  you  and  her  safely  over  this 
stormy  sea  of  trouble,  and  bring  your  vessel  into  a  quiet 
haven  with  its  flag  floating  triumphantly  from  the  tip  of 
its  tapering  mast !" 

"  What 'do  you  say  these  are?"  she  asked  in  a  dazed  way 
as  he  thrust  the  papers  into  her  hand  and  her  fingers  closed 
securely  upon  them. 

It  was  evident  that  for  the  moment  the  woman  was  be 
wildered,  more  by  the  unexpected  manner  in  which  the 
young  man  had  made  his  revelations  than  by  the  revela 
tions  themselves.  These,  to  a  certain  extent,  she  had  an 
ticipated,  but  his  choice  of  language  and  eloquent  gestures 
were  a  total  surprise,  nor  could  she  restrain  the  look  of 
genuine  admiration  with  which  she  was  now  regarding 
him.  Dibbs  interpreted  this  expression  of  her  lace  as 
having  a  deeper  meaning.  Perhaps — the  thought  made 
him  tingle  from  head  to  foot — it  was  the  faint  dawn  of  a 
feeling  that  would  yet  ripen  into  the  most  luscious  fruit 
of  Love's  own  raising.  He  must  do  all  he  could  now  to 
make  her  more  strongly  impressed  in  his  favor. 

"  Those  papers,"  he  said  at  length,  tapping  them  sig 
nificantly  as  they  lay  in  her  grasp,  "  are  extracts  copied 
by  myself  from  the  law-books  of  llader  Craft.  You  will 
find  in  them  all  that  Mrs.  Gagger,"  lowering  his  voice 
dramatically,  "  will  ever  need  to  know  in  regard  to  her 
legal  rights  under  certain  contingencies.  Time  and  her 
own  good  judgment,  supplemented  by  your  most  excellent 
advice,  will  aid  her  in  determining  to  what  extent  she 
shall  avail  herself  of  the  ample  protection  which,  in  anv 
event,  the  law  affords  her.  Moreover,"  laying  his  hand 
deferentially  upon  his  breast,  "if  I  can  be  of  further  aid 
to  either  or  both  of  you  in  the  settlement  of  present  or 
future  issues,  command  me.  There  you  have  the  law 

15 


170  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

verbatim  et  literatim  et  puncfndthn;  here  you  see  one  who 
will  ever  hold  your  interest*  and  happiness  dearest  to  his 
heart.  If  in  trouble,  my  dear  madam,  call  upon  AVilliam 
Dibbs;  if  rn  doubt,  consult  him;  if  in  anxiety,  summon 
him.  And,  to  speak  more  comprehensively  still,  in  what 
ever  circumstances  of  female  complications  or  distress  you 
may  need  his  aid,  I  repeat  it,  invoke  the  aforesaid  William 
Dibbs.  To  relieve  lovely  women  of  "the  faintest  care  is 
the  highest  ambition  of  his  checkered  career!" 

As  he  finished  speaking  he  suddenly  rose  to  take  his 
departure,  for  the  clock  striking  nine  warned  him  that 
if  he  wished  to  further  carry  out  his  plans  he  should  no 
longer  linger  in  this  angelic  presence. 

Aziel  urged  him  to  remain.  It  was  early  yet ;  she 
would  be  so  pleased  to  have  him  partake  of  some  re 
freshments.  She  would  call  Mrs.  Gagger  and  introduce 
him  to  her.  Mrs.  Gagger  would  be  delighted  to  know 
personally  so  warm  a  friend.  But  finding  that  to  all  her 
urging  he  returned  a  reluctant  denial,  and  that  he  grew 
more  and  more  anxious  to  take  his  leave,  she  put  out  her 
hand  ;  and  grasping  his  with  a  fervent  pressure,  she  said, 
with  her  large  black  eyes  fixed  upon  him  with  deepest 
thankfulness, 

"  Mr.  Dibbs,  you  have  shown  yourself  a  dear,  good 
friend  to  us.  How  can  we  ever  repay  you  ?  I  feel  as 
if  we  never  could.  You  will  come  and  see  us  soon 
again,  I  hope?" 

"  Whenever  my  presence  shall  be  necessary  to  your 
further  warning,  or  promotive  of  your  safety  from  the 
machinations  of  secret  enemies  or  open  foes,  you  shall 
see  William  Dibbs  again.  For  the  present,  fair  lady, 
adieu !" 

Reverently  pressing  her  hand  to  his  lips — a  way  of 
parting  he  had  seen  upon  the  stage — he  turned  quickly 
away,  and  without  looking  back  darted  out  of  the  house. 
He  had  been  gone  but  a  few  minutes  when  Mrs.  Gagger 
came  into  the  room,  and  the  two  women  stood  for  a  mo 
ment  looking  silently  at  each  other  with  a  mutual  expres 
sion  of  astonishment  not  unmixed  with  fear.  The  mis 
tress  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Aziel,"  she  said,  with  evident  effort  forcing  somewhat 


WILLIAM  DIBBS'  NIGHT  ADVENTURE.          171 

of  composure  in  her  voice  and  manner,  "  what  is  the 
meaning  of  all  this?  I  have  been  listening  to  his  talk 
with  amazement  and  anxiety.  Can  it  be  possible  that 
he  is  sincere  in  his  professions  of  friendship  for  us  ?  or 
has  he  come  here  as  a  spy  ?  I  much  fear  the  latter  is 
the  case." 

"Spy  or  not,"  replied  Aziel,  "  his  visit  has  certainly 
been  to  our  advantage;  and  if  he  did  come  as  a  spy,  I 
am  sure — thanks  to  a  little  innocent  coquetry  on  my  part 
— he  has  gone  away  my  friend,  and,  of  course,  your  friend 
too.  I  will  see  to  it  that  lie  remains  faithful  to  us  both. 
All  is  fair  in  war,  and  nothing  fairer  than  receiving  with 
a  hearty  welcome  any  and  all  deserters  from  the  enemy. 
First,  let  us  see  what  information  he  has  brought  us  here." 
Crossing  to  the  lamp,  she  opened  the  papers  Dibbs  had 
given  her,  and  read  aloud  their  contents. 

"  Then  he  has  the  right  by  law  to  annul  my  present 
marriage  any  time  within  six  months,"  said  Mrs.  Gagger, 
trying  to  speak  calmly,  as  Aziel  finished  reading  and  slowly 
raised  her  eyes,  in  which  was  a  trifle  of  triumph. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Aziel ;  "  but  suppose  he  does,  he  can 
not  make  you  live  with  him.  The  law  on  this  point 
— a  most  important  one  to  you — is  altogether  in  your 
favor.  You  can  refuse  to  live  with  him,  and  all  he  can 
do  is  to  get  a  divorce  from  you  for  willful  desertion. 
You  would  not  object  to  that,  I  am  sure,"  she  added 
with  an  encouraging  smile. 

At  this  moment  they  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of 
excited  voices  near  the  house.  They  were  evidently  those 
of  men  in  close  altercation,  the  tones  of  one  growing 
louder  each  instant,  wrhile  those  of  the  other  were  sub 
dued,  though  full  of  passion.  Then  all  at  once  there  was 
a  dead  silence,  followed  by  a  gurgling  sound  and  a  faint 
cry  for  help  from  the  weaker  voice,  succeeded  again  by 
a  series  of  angry  shouts  from  the  stronger  one  and  the 
discharge  of  firearms.  The  swift  running  of  feet  down 
the  lane  was  now  heard,  the  flying  one  crying  "Murder!" 
as  he  went.  Aziel  L*oyd  was  the  first  to  command  her 
self,  and  while  her  mistress  stood  pallid  and  transfixed 
with  fear  she  ran  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  As  she 
did  so  the  light  fell  upon  Patrick  Doyle,  a  malicious 


172  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

grin  upon  his  face  and  an  old  cavalry  pistol  still  held 
smoking  in  his  hand. 

"  Lord  save  ye  kindly,  Misthress  Loyd  !"  he  said,  pulling 
off  his  hat,  with  a  scrape  of  his  foot.  "It's  only  frecken- 
ing  the  omudhaun  I  wor  wid  the  noise  of  me  pistol.  Be- 
dad,  it's  a  long  time  agin  afore  he'll  be  prowlin'  round 
this  house  a-lookin'  through  the  windies.  God  save  ye, 
leddies,  both,  says  I.  It's  divil  a  bit  o'  harrum  I'd  see 
comin'  to  ye  by  the  loikes  o'  him,  the  dirty  sthrap  !" 

"You  did  not  hurt  him,  Patrick?"  anxiously  asked 
Aziel.  "The  man  was  Mr.  Dibbs,  was  he  not?  You 
are  sure  he  was  Mr.  Dibbs?" 

"Is  it  Bill  Dibbs,  at  the  shebeen  in  the  village  beyant, 
ye  mane,  Misthress  Loyd  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  young  man  who  works  at  the  inn.  You  are 
sure  the  man  you  saw  was  he  ?" 

"  Throth,  I  wish  I  wor  as  sure  of  hiven  itself  as  I  wor 
of  the  sight  o'  that  same  Bill  Dibbs,  bad  luck  to  him, 
shure,  wid  his  dalin'  out  o'  pizen  to  the  boys !  It's  not 
his  liquor  I'd  be  dhrinkin',  savin'  I  wanted  purgatory 
inside  o'  me." 

"Mr.  Dibbs  came  here  on  an  errand,"  said  Aziel. 
"  Yon,"  her  manner  a  trifle  condemnatory,  "  should  not 
have  been  so  quick  to  think  that  he  meant  us  any  harm. 
If  you  see  him  here  again,  come  and  tell  me  before  you 
do  anything  so  uncalled-for  as  this.  I  hope  you  did  not 
strike  him?" 

"Well,  it's  tell  in'  God's  thruth,  I  always  am,"  said 
Patrick,  humbly  raising  his  eyes,  "an'  it's  not  meself  that 
can  say  exactly  how  it  wor.  But  it  'minds  me  now  I  felt 
the  full  weight  o'  his  skull  agin  me  fist.  Maybe  his  eye 
wathers  a  thrifle,  but  it's  no  harrum  I  did  to  his  skull, 
I'm  sure.  Och  hone!  it's  me  own  blissod  fist  that's  achin' 
now  !" 

"  I  am  glad  you  did  not  seriously  hurt  him.  But  in 
order  to  prevent  any  mistakes  hereafter,  I  wish  you  would 
remember  that  you  must  first  let  us  know  if  you  see  any 
body  about  the  house  ;  then  we  will  tell  you  what  to  do." 

So  saving,  she  bid  him  good-night  as  he  stood  there, 
puzzled  and  confused,  trying  to  hide  the  obnoxious  pistol 
out  of  her  si<jjht  in  a  pocket  far  too  small  for  it. 


PICKING   THE  VALISE.  173 

As  for  Dibbs,  he  was  making  his  safety  sure  in  flight, 
minus  his  hat  and  with  several  rents  in  his  best  suit  of 
clothes.  His  right  eye  was  indeed  watering,  if  nothing 
worse,  and  fast  closing,  with  a  dull  pain.  He  did  not 
stop  to  investigate  this  injury — though  something  warm 
trickling  down  his  face  made  him  shudder  at  the  thought 
of  blood — but  ran  homeward  nearly  as  fast  as  he  had 
come.  As  he  passed,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  speed,  the  hut 
of  Nicholas  Grundle,  the  door  opened  for  an  instant,  and 
out  of  the  one  eye,  which  strained  itself  with  astonish 
ment,  Dibbs  saw,  looking  out  from  the  half-open  door 
way,  the  form  of  the  mysterious  stranger — the  same  tall 
man  who  had  come  to  the  inn;  the  same  dark  face,  only 
the  beard  was  not  so  heavy  now.  It  was  just  a  glimpse 
he  caught  of  the  figure  and  the  partly-averted  face,  for,  as 
Dibbs  came  upon  the  rift  of  light  that  streamed  out  across 
the  road,  the  man  quickly  drew  backward  and  closed  the 
door. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PICKING   THE   VALISE.— OPENING  THE  CHEST. 

TVTO  miner  digging  for  gold  over  the  spot  where  he  felt 
_LM  certain  it  was  ever  worked  more  industriously  than 
did  Nicholas  Grundle  at  the  locks  that  kept  from  him  the 
secret  of  the  valise.  At  first,  with  all  his  usual  caution, 
he  tried  the  little  piece  of  bent  wire  in  one  of  the  sunken 
locks,  leaving  the  padlock  till  the  last,  when  his  success 
with  the  others  should  give  him  more  confidence  with 
this,  which  he  saw  at  a  glance  was  a  padlock  of  no  ordi 
nary  pattern.  But  the  smaller  locks  proved  as  formi 
dable  to  his  skill  as  the  larger  one  might  have  clone. 
Twist  the  end  of  the  wire  in  whatever  shape  he  might, 
and  turn  it  within  the  hole  in  whatever  direction  or  angle 
he  could,  he  made  no  impression  upon  either  of  thorn  ; 
and  the  longer  he  worked,  the  more  stubbornly  they 
resisted  the  slightest  betrayal  of  their  mechanism. 

"  He  lias  got  safe-locks  on   his  valise,"  he    muttered, 

16  * 


174  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

with  a  cunning  smile,  stopping  for  a  moment  to  rest  his 
hands  and  wipe  away  the  perspiration  which  covered  his 
forehead.  "  But  the  greater  the  treasure,  the  greater  the 
caution.  Yes,  yes !  Gold  is  hidden  here.  Not  less  than 
twenty  thousand  dollars,  I  am  sure.  I  wonder  if  it  is  in 
bags,  in  large  or  small  pieces,  new  or  old  coin  ?  If  I 
could  only  get  a  look  at  it !  So  much  gold  under  my 
very  eyes,  and  I  not  even  see  it!" 

He  said  this  with  a  vexatious  shake  of  his  head  as  he 
seized  the  handle  of  the  valise  and  rocked  it  violently  to 
and  fro,  as  if  to  vent  his  anger  upon  it  for  the  stubborn 
ness  with  which  it  kept  its  secret.  Then,  trying  his  skill 
again,  he  put  the  wire  into  the  padlock  and  slowly  turned 
it  around,  bending  closely  over  the  lock  and  listening 
intently  for  the  faintest  click  within  its  works.  But  he 
Avas  no  more  successful  with  this  than  with  the  others — 
in  fact,  less  so;  for  while  he  was  pressing  the  wire  against 
a  point  which  vibrated  a  trifle  under  his  touch  the  wire 
suddenly  snapped,  and  to  his  dismay  on  pulling  it  out  he 
found  the  broken  piece  was  left  in  the  lock.  It  was  in 
vain  that  he  tried  to  get  this  fragment  out  of  the  lock  by 
shaking  it  in  all  directions.  The  piece  had  become  wedged 
in  tightly,  wherever  it  was,  and  refused  to  leave  its  hiding- 
place.  He  tried  to  reach  it  with  the  wire,  moving  it  as 
cautiously  as  his  trembling  hands  would  permit;  but  he 
could  not  get  the  fragment,  which,  with  that  singular 
perversity  common  to  all  inanimate  things,  seemed  fully 
determined  to  remain  where  it  was,  to  tell  of  his  tamper 
ing  with  the  lock. 

Nicholas  Grundle  stood  in  a  quandary  now,  silently 
cursing  the  lock  and  the  wire — the  one  for  its  complexity, 
the  other  for  its  frailty;  and  his  disappointment  at  not 
being  able  to  see  the  contents  of  the  valise  was  all  the 
greater  because  of  such  trivial  impediments  to  his  success. 
Xo  use  to  work  over  the  valise  any  longer,  he  thought; 
for  even  if  he  succeeded  in  picking  the  smaller  locks,  that 
could  be  of  no  service  to  him,  with  this  padlock  still 
successfully  defying  him.  So  returning  the  wire  to  the 
drawer  whence  he  had  taken  it,  he  locked  the  drawer 
and  hid  the  key  beneath  the  chest.  Then,  replacing  the 
valise  in  the  corner,  he  flung  the  carpet  over  it,  and  with 


PICKING   THE  VALISE.  175 

a  sigh  of  disappointment  as  earnest  as  any  expression  of 
feeling  he  had  ever  uttered  he  drew  aside  the  window- 
curtains.  Finally,  after  wandering  aimlessly  about  the 
room,  he  sat  down  in  his  chair  in  front  of  the  fireplace, 
where  a  few  half-dead  embers  blinked  up  at  his  moody 
gaze.  The  old  man  was  greatly  disgusted  with  his  fail 
ure  at  lock-picking.  He  had  hoped  to  fully  explore  the 
recesses  of  the  valise,  from  which  even  now  he  could  not 
wholly  keep  his  eyes.  To  gratify  his  avaricious  curiosity 
he  now  knew  he  must  wait  until  the  return  of  the  stran 
ger,  and  run  the  chance  of  seeing  him  display  the  hidden 
wealth  of  the  valise,  or  a  portion  of  it  at  least.  For  he 
shrewdly  said  to  himself  that  if  the  stranger  consented  to 
buy  the  form  he  should  make  him  pay  down  a  goodly 
sum-  as  earnest-money  this  very  evening. 

"  Not  a  bad  idea,  that !"  he  muttered,  rubbing  his  hands, 
chilly  through  nervousness,  over  the  faint  heat  of  the 
hearth.  "  I  will  make  him  sign  an  agreement  to  buy, 
and  he  shall  give  me  five  hundred  dollars  in  advance. 
No  matter  what  he  wants  it  for,  I  will  sell  it  to  him,"  he 
chuckled.  "  Twenty  thousand  dollars  for  forty  acres  of 
land  !  Of  course  it  is  good  land.  Oh  yes,  very,  very 
fertile !  You  can  raise  any  amount  of  hopes  on  it ;  and 
hopes  are  not  a  bad  crop  to  raise." 

He  struck  his  knees  and  cackled  away  with  a  shrill 
laugh  such  as  had  not  shook  his  shriveled  frame  for  many 
a  year.  But — and  the  thought  made  him  suddenly  serious 
— suppose  the  man  should  change  his  mind  and  refuse  to 
buy?  What  then?  That  was  evidently  a  very  important 
question,  and  Nicholas  Grundle  tried  to  answer  it,  leaning 
forward  with  his  hands  clasped  in  his  lap,  his  eyebrows 
knitted  close  together,  beneath  which  shone  the  gleam  of 
his  avaricious  eyes,  that  strayed,  as'he  pondered,  toward 
the  corner  where  lay  the  treasure  which  already  he  had 
almost  come  to  consider  his  own.  Oddly,  too,  as  his  eyes 
rested  upon  the  valise,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  it 
was  just  over  the  very  spot  in  the  cellar  where  that  other 
treasure  was,  which  no  eyes  but  his  own  had  seen,  and  no 
other  hands  had  touched.  What  more  natural  than  that 
he  should  add  the  two  together  in  his  mind?  'What  a 
large  sum  they  made !  His  head  was  a  trifle  giddy  as  the 


176  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

total  product  of  their  figures  impressed  itself  with  a 
slight  electric  shock  upon  his  brain,  and  finally  danced 
before  his  eyes  with  a  kaleidoscopic  vision  of  its  pur 
chasing  power.  It  might  have  been  that  his  head  was  a 
little  turned  by  the  dazzling  prospect  which  this  sudden 
doubling  of  his  wealth  opened  up  to  him,  else  why  had 
the  avaricious  gleam  in  his  eyes  deepened  so  soon,  and  his 
features  grown  rigid  with  a  determination  that  crept  over 
him,  at  first  with  the  trifle  of  a  shudder,  but  anon  left  him 
trembling  and  excited,  but  resolved  in  his  purpose?  He 
rose  stealthily  from  his  chair  and  glanced  out  of  the  win- 
don-  that  commanded  the  village  road.  It  was  as  lifeless 
as  the  sterile  fields  that  bounded  it  on  either  side.  Then, 
with  a  noiseless  step,  walking  on  tip  toe,  as  was  his  custom 
when  he  sought  to  hide  the  direction  of  his  movements  in 
the  cellar,  he  went  over  to  the  corner  where  his  gun  stood. 

Taking  up  the  weapon,  he  examined  it  carefully,  and 
then,  as  if  not  wholly  satisfied,  he  withdrew  the  charge 
and  replaced  it  with  another,  and  put  on  a  fresh  cap,  which 
he  selected  with  more  than  ordinary  care.  This  done,  he 
suddenly  set  the  gun  back  in  its  place,  and  with  a  con 
fident  smile  began  to  walk  slowly  about  the  room,  evi 
dently  working  himself  up  into  a  fever  of  resolution,  and 
keeping  his  eyes  almost  constantly  upon  the  valise,  coming 
closely  to  it  every  time  he  made  the  circuit  of  the  apart 
ment.  While  thus  engaged  he  heard  the  bark  of  the  dog 
as  it  came  running  up  the  garden-path,  and  an  instant 
later  he  caught  the  sound  of  the  girl's  slower  footsteps, 
which  now  stopped,  as  if  she  were  hesitating  about  enter 
ing  the  house. 

"She  is  coining  home  with  a  heavy  heart,"  he  said  with 
somewhat  of  compassion  in  his  voice  as  he  hastened  toward 
the  door  to  unfasten  "it.  "  The  feet  go  slowly  indeed  when 
the  heart  is  sad.  But  she  will  get  over  this  disappoint 
ment.  The  less  we  talk  about  it,  the  sooner  she  will  for 
get  ;  so  I  will  not  question  her.  She  shall  tell  me  only 
what  she  pleases  to  relieve  her  mind.  Poor  child  !  I  do 
pity  her.  He  did  certainly  bewitch  her  with  his  glowing 
vows  and  bright  pictures  of  his  love  for  her.  His  love! 
Bah!  What  does  a  boy  know  of  love?  No  more  than 
he  knoxvs  of  that  greater  enigma,  life  itsolf." 


PICKING   THE  VALISE.  177 

With  a  kindly  smile  he  opened  the  door,  and  saw  her 
standing  before  him.  She  started  a  trifle  as  her  eyes  tim 
idly  met  his,  but,  gradually  assured  by  his  mild  countenance, 
she  came  slowly  forward  and  stood  silently  beside  him. 

"  It  was  a  long  walk,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  caress 
ingly  upon  her  shoulder,  "and  your  little  feet  have  gone 
over  it  very  fast.  But  I  missed  you  very  much,  my  child. 
Ah  !  when  you  are  out  of  my  sight,  it  seems  as  if  the 
minutes  change  into  hours." 

Gently  drawing  her  close  to  him,  he  kissed  her  lips  and 
looked  softly  down  into  her  eyes,  where  .was  the  faint  glis 
tening  of  recent  tears. 

"Did  she  speak  harshly  to  you?"  he  asked,  stroking 
back  her  hair  and  patting  her  cheek.  "She  had  no  right 
to  da  that.  It  was  not  your  fault  that  you  could  keep  the 
locket  no  longer." 

-  "  No,  father ;  she  was  very  kind  to  me,"  she  murmured, 
half  concealing  her  face  upon  his  breast.  "  She  is  a  sweet 
woman.  She  talked  to  me  as  kindly  as  if  I  were  her 
own  child." 

"  That  was  very  good  of  her,"  he  said  after  a  pause, 
during  which  a  look  of  perplexity  had  come  upon  his  face. 
"  She  did  not  blame  you,  then  ?" 

"  No.  She — she  blamed  him,"  was  the  hesitating  an 
swer,  which  came  with  a  sigh,  followed  by  a  little  sob, 
which  would  have  been  quickly  followed  by  others  had 
he  not  suddenly  changed  the  current  of  her  thoughts. 

"  Well,  we  will  talk  no  more  about  it,"  he  said,  turning 
with  her  into  the  house.  "  Let  us  forget  it  for  a  while. 
Some  other  time  you  shall  tell  me,  if  you  choose,  what  she 
said  to  you.  Just  now  we  will  try  to  be  happy  here  in 
our  little  home.  It  may  not  be  long  before  we  leave  it  for 
a  brighter  and  a  better  one.  So,  while  we  do  stay  here, 
where  we  have  been  so  happy  together — you  and  I,  my 
child — let  us  be  happy  as  we  have  always  been.  You 
will  try  to  be  so,  will  you  not  ?"  he  went  on  coaxingly, 
drawing  her  closely  to  him,  patting  her  under  the  chin  and 
pinching  her  cheeks  with  an  odd  laugh  of  encouragement. 

"  I  will  try  to  be  happy,"  she  sighed,  looking  down  and 
away  from  him  to  hide  the  quivering  of  her  lips.  "But, 
father  dear,"  turning  up  to  him  a  timorous  glance,  "you 

M 


178  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

will  not  be  angry  with  me  if  I  am  not  happy  right  away  ". 
It  is  so  hard- 
He  playfully  interrupted  her  by  putting  his  hand  upon 
her  mouth — a  way  he  had  of  correcting  her  from  her 
childhood.  "  There,  there,  my  dear  child !"  he  said. 
"  You  need  not  say  another  word  ;  your  father  under 
stands  it  all.  You  must  forget,  and  I  must  forget.  We 
must  both  together  forget  that  you  deceived  me  and  I  was 
angry  with  you  for  it.  I  am  not  angry  with  you  now. 
No,  no!  What  you  have  done  this  morning  has  made 
you  dearer  to  me  than  ever.  Don't  you  see  how  different 
I  am  from  what  I  was  when  you  went  away  ?  Look  at 
your  poor  old  father's  face  !"  he  broke  out  with  a  gayety 
of  manner  she  had  never  seen  before,  catching  her  hands 
in  his,  and,  with  his  arms  extended,  dancing  a  few  light 
steps  in  front  of  her  and  laughing  the  louder  the  more 
surprised  she  looked.  "  Why,  I  am  as  happy  as  happy 
can  be  !"  he  cried,  dropping  her  hands,  and  clapping  his 
own  in  time  with  his  fantastic  footsteps. 

She  looked  at  him  in  mute  wonderment,  forgetting  for 
the  moment  her  own  sad  thoughts  as  she  saw  her  father 
capering  about  the  room  with  a  glee  that  increased  with 
every  step  he  took. 

"  Xow  don't  you  see  how  happy  I  am  ?"  he  laughed, 
caracoling  toward  her.  He  tossed  aside  her  hood  and 
shawl,  and  catching  her  about  the  waist  whirled  her  around 
the  room  with  him  with  an  abandon  of  spirits  that  over 
turned  the  chairs  and  made  Csesar  add  his  barking  to  the 
general  tumult.  Out  of  breath,  he  stopped  at  last  and 
sank  into  his  chair,  and  motioned  her  to  come  and  sit 
beside  him. 

"My  child,"  he  said,  after  he  had  gained  something  of 
his  usual  composure,  "  I  see  you  are  wondering  what 
makes  me  so  happy.  Well,  I  cannot  tell  you  all  just  now. 
Of  course  I  am  pleased  because  you  are  so  loving  and 
kind  and  obedient  to  me,  but  that,  while  it  is  a  part,  is  not 
the  whole  reason,  of  my  joy.  There  is  good  fortune  in 
store  for  us,  and  for  you  more  than  for  me.  I  can  see 
it  coniing.  Yes,  yes,  I  can  see  it  coming.  We  have  not 
much  longer  to  wait  for  it — not  much  longer  to  wait. 
The  mouths  go  fast  now — very  fast !" 


PICKING   THE  VALISE.  179 

Here  his  speech,  which  had  slowly  become  more  hesitat 
ing,  died  away,  and  he  fell  into  one  of  his  silent  and 
thoughtful  moods,  his  hand  resting  fondly  upon  her 
head,  which  hud  pillowed  itself  upon  his  knee  while 
he  had  been  speaking.  Several  moments  thus  passed, 
when  he  suddenly  came  out  of  his  reverie,  and  ex 
claimed,  rising  from  his  chair, 

"Dear  me,  my  child!  Why,  \ve  have  almost  forgotten 
our  dinner!  The  sun  has  been  shining  through  yonder 
window  an  hour,  and  tells  us  that,  hurry  as  -we  may,  we 
shall  be  late  at  least  twice  that  length  of  time.  For  to 
day  we  must  have  a  good  dinner — yes,  the  best  dinner  the 
old  cottage  can  give  us !  And  now,  my  little  housekeeper, 
what  shall  we  have  for  dinner?" 

"  What  would  you  like  to  have?"  she  asked. 

For  this  was  the  question  he  had  taught  her  to  put  to 
him  before  every  meal  since  the  old  housekeeper  had  been 
laid  away  in  yonder  yard.  And  he,  too,  had  always  kept 
the  key  of  the  closet  where  the  household  stores  were, 
from  which  he  doled  out  as  he  thought  best  a  scanty  basis 
for  the  coming  meal.  Surprised  indeed,  then,  was  she  to 
hear  him  say,  as  he  put  the  closet  key  in  her  hand, 

"You  shall  provide  the  dinner  yourself.  It's  time  that 
you  took  charge  of  everything  about  the  house.  You  are 
getting  to  be  a  woman,  and  from  this  day  on  I  give  into 
your  hands  the  management  of  all  our  household  affairs. 
Yes,  yes  !  you  are  now  my  little  woman-child.  You  must 
take  as  good  care  of  me  as  I  have  of  you,"  he  added  with 
a  playful  shake  of  his  forefinger  as  he  kissed  her  and  bid 
her  hurry  with  the  meal. 

This  new  responsibility — one  which  she  had  often 
longed  to  have,  and  which  now  she  found  so  unexpected 
ly  thrust  upon  her — seemed  to  suddenly  lighten  her  heart. 
With  a  little  burst  of  childish  joy  she  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  kissed  him,  and  told  him  how  happy 
now  she  was  in  feeling  that  she  was  to  care  for  him,  and 
how  sure  she  was  that  she  could  do  everything  about  the 
house  to  please  him.  Then  she  asked  him  to  sit  in  his 
chair  and  watch  her  while  she  got  ready,  all  by  herself, 
the  meal  they  were  to  eat.  He  let  her  lead  him  to  his 
old  arm-chair,  which  she  placed  by  the  fireplace,  where  he 


180  AS  IT  MAT  HAPPEN. 

could  see  her  every  movement.  Beating  up  the  cushion, 
she  set  him  down  gently  in  the  seat  with  so  much  of  a 
motherly  air  that  lie  smiled  and  shook  his  head  with 
many  an  approving  nod,  and  said. 

"  That's  right,  my  little  woman-child  !  You  know  just 
how  to  care  for  me.  Your  old  father  has  been  blind  until 
to-day,  that  he  did  not  see  how  miv.h  better  than  himself 
you  can  care  for  him."  Pushing  back  the  stray  locks  from 
his  forehead  and  stroking  his  chocks,  much  as  if  he  had 
been  a  child  and  she  a  woman  grown,  she  bid  him  keep 
his  eyes  upon  her  and  see  how  well  she  could  do  in  this 
her  first  attempt  at  housekeeping.  So  while  she  busied 
herself  in  her  new  work  his  eyes,  except  when  they  were 
diverted  by  a  sudden  glance  at  the  valise,  followed  her 
with  many  .a  look  of  pride.  Now  and  then  he  clapped 
his  hands  and  told  her  how  well  she  was  doing  as  he  saw 
the  fire  burning  briskly  on  the  hearth,  the  vegetables  and 
the  meat  preparing,  and  the  table  growing  more  and  more 
inviting  under  the  white  cloth  and  the  bright  dishes,  whose 
location  she  now  and  then  changed  as  her  eye  caught  a 
better  effect.  Thus  the  hour  passed  more  happily  to  her 
than  had  any  hour  she  had  ever  remembered  beneath  this 
roof;  and  when  she  drew,  his  chair  up  to  the  well-spread 
table,  and  he  said  he  could  not  have  believed  she  was  so 
smart  had  he  not  seen  it  with  his  own  eyes,  she  could 
not  repress  the  tears  of  joy  that  welled  up  from  her 
happy  heart. 

The  cottage  of  Nicholas  Grundle  had  never  seen  so 
good  a  dinner,  nor  so  generous  a  one.  There  were  mut 
ton-chops  broiled  to  a  turn  ;  boiled  potatoes  ready  to  fall 
apart  with  their  flaky  whiteness ;  roasted  sweet  potatoes 
steaming  hot;  and  hominy  creamy- white  with  milk  and 
butter.  A  pitcher  of  milk  was  there,  and  a  plate  of 
sliced  bread,  which  seemed  to  be  ogling  the  little  plate  of 
butter  that  stood  opposite  it,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  table 
was  a  glass  dish  which  Emily  had  found  in  the  closet,  and 
in  which  she  had  placed  some  red-cheeked  apples,  decorat 
ing  them  with  some  bright  fall  leaves  she  had  gathered 
that  day.  Never  was  a  meal  in  the  cottage  eaten  with  so 
much  pleasure  as  was  this.  The  old  man  never  was  so 
talkative,  never  in  so  good  a  humor.  He  praised  every 


PICKING  THE  VALISE.  181 

dish,  and  pronounced  the  cooking  the  best  he  had  ever 
tasted.  He  told  stories  of  his  younger  days — a  period  in 
his  life  she  had  never  heard  him  mention  until  now — and 
laughed  immoderately  at  these  reminiscences  of  his  boy 
hood,  until  Cffisar,  who  had  been  watching  the  table 
closely,  occasionally  receiving  a  mouthful  from  Emily, 
could  no  longer  restrain  his  glee,  and  ran  around  the  room, 
jumping  up  and  barking  first  at  Emily,  then  at  her 
father. 

"  Why,  even  the  dog  is  in  good  humor  to-day  !"  cried 
the  old  man,  patting  him  on  the  head  and  giving  him  a 
bone.  "And  well  he  may  be  !  Ah,  Csesar,  you  rascal  ! 
you  know  there  is  good  fortune  coming  to  us.  Yes,  you 
do,  you  rogue  !" 

The  dog,  as  if  indeed  this  kind  treatment  of  his  master 
was  good  enough  fortune  for  him,  licked  his  hand  and 
kept  up  his  gambols  about  the  table. 

When  at  last  the  meal  was  over,  the  table  cleared  and 
the  dishes  put  away  in  the  closet,  where  Emily  arranged 
them  in  better  order  than  they  had  ever  been,  her  father 
called  her  up  into  his  room,  in  which  he  had  been  quietly 
busy  about  something  this  last  half  hour.  She  quickly 
ascended  the  little  open  staircase,  wondering  why  he  had 
summoned  her  there — for  his  room,  locked  at  all  hours, 
had  always  been  a  sealed  apartment  to  her — and  her  won 
derment  only  increased  when,  on  entering  the  door,  she 
saw  him  standing  by  an  old  oaken  chest,  upon  the  open 
sides  and  back  of  which  were  displayed  many  bright  pieces 
of  silks  and  velvets,  sprays  of  artificial  flowers,  streamers 
of  delicate  laces,  brilliant  shawls  of  various  thicknesses 
and  texture,  and  several  rare  and  motley  skins.  She  was 
astonished  indeed  at  the  sight  of  such  an  array  of  queenly 
apparel.  Whose  might  it  be?  She  could  not  speak  or 
move,  and  her  eyes  were  riveted  upon  this  little  world  of 
.beauty  before  her,  which  seemed  to  her  to  be  the  creation 
of  some  fairy  spell.  The  old  man  evidently  enjoyed  her 
amazement,  for  he  uttered  no  word  himself,  but  with  a  face 
as  glowing  and  excited  as  her  own  watched,  with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  his  eyes,  the  startling  effect  of  this  display. 

"  What  are  they  ?  Whose  are  they  ?"  she  managed  to 
whisper  out,  coming  a  pace  or  two  nearer  him  and  laying 

16 


182  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

her  hand  upon  his  arm  with  a  tremor  of  excitement  which 
pleased  him  all  the  more. 

"Whose  are  they?"  he  exclaimed,  leading  her  close  to 
the  chest  and  pointing  to  its  contents  with  a  look  of  pride. 
"  Why,  they  are  yours,  my  child — all  yours." 

"Mine?"  she  slowly  said,  gazing  at  him  with  a  dazed 
look  of  inquiry. 

"  Yes,  all  yours.  See  here !"  he  continued,  taking  from 
the  bottom  of  the  chest  a  roll  of  heavy  white  satin,  upon 
which  was  laid  a  fleecy  veil  and  a  spray  of  orange-blossoms. 
"  What  is  this  ?  You  are  old  enough  now  to  know.  Ah  ! 
I  see  my  woman-child  has  been  thinking  ahead." 

He  shook  his  head  wisely  as  she  bent  over  the  parcel 
and  gazed  at  it  with  sparkling  eyes,  a  bated,  fluttering 
breath  and  cheeks  that  grew  white  and  red  by  turns. 

"A  wedding-dress!"  she  whispered,  more  to  herself 
than  to  him,  as  she  gently  laid  her  hand  upon  it,  and  then 
shrank  back  with  a  little  start  and  a  face  that  had  grown 
suddenly  solemn. 

'"  So  it  is,  so  it  is  ;  and  your  wedding-dress,  too.  Yes, 
yes !  A  wedding-dress  for  my  woman-child.  Ha,  ha  ! 
Your  old  father  thought  ahead  too,  didn't  he?'' 

Shaking  his  head  from  side  to  side,  with  a  laugh  of  sat 
isfaction  he  laid  the  dress  back  in  the  chest.  Then  he  be 
gan  to  replace  the  other  articles,  holding  each  up  to  her 
happy  gaze,  saying, 

"These  are  all  yours  too — every  one  of  them.  Ah! 
Nicholas  Grundle's  child,  when  she  is  a  bride,  shall  be 
dressed  equal  to  her  station.  Her  poor  old  father  has 
taken  care  of  that.  He  has  seen  good  fortune  coming  to 
her,  and  he  is  ready  for  it.  You  can  go  now,"  he  said, 
turning  abruptly  to  her  as  he  closed  the  lid  of  the  chest 
with  a  heavy  sigh,  and  motioning  her  to  the  stairway. 
"  Some  other  time  I  will  talk  to  you  more  about  this,  but 
not  now — no,  not  now,  my  child." 

Despite  his  efforts  to  conceal  his  emotion,  she  detected 
the  sad  shadow  on  his  face  and  noticed  how  tremulous  and 
unsteady  his  voice  had  become. 

She  would  have  run  to  him  and  kissed  him,  but  he 
silently  waved  her  away  and  bid  her  leave  him  alone. 

He  would  stay  in  his  room  a  while  this  afternoon.     She 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  MISER'S  COTTAGE.      183 

must  go  down  stairs  and  sit  by  the  window  that  faced  the 
village  road,  and  call  to  him  if  the  stranger  she  saw  in 
the  morning  should  come  that  way. 

"  Keep  the  doors  locked,"  he  said  :  "  open  them  to  no 
one.  You  must  help  me  now  to  watch  over  our  treasures. 
They  are  your  treasures  as  well  as  mine.  You  have  not 
yet  seen  them  all,  my  child,  but  you  shall  some  day.  Yes, 
some  day,"  he  went  on  musingly,  "and  that  day  will  be 
soon  enough  for  you,  but  too  soon  for  me,  I  know — too 
soon  for  me." 

In  obedience  to  another  beckoning  wave  of  his  hand 
she  descended  the  stairs,  her  mind  in  a  maze  of  mystery. 
She  seated  herself  at  the  window,  and  tried  to  reduce  her 
thoughts  to  some  system  and  draw  some  satisfactory  con 
clusions  from  what  she  had  seen  and  heard.  The  more 
she  questioned  herself  as  to  the  meaning  of  this  sudden 
change  of  her  father  in  his  conduct  toward  her  and  why 
he  had  shown  her  the  contents  of  the  chest,  the  less  she 
could  understand  it  all. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AN  EVENING  IN  THE  MISER'S  COTTAGE. 

IT  was  a  very  short  afternoon  to  Emily,  although  she 
sat  by  the  window  keeping  watch  as  her  father  had 
bidden  her,  with  no  companions  save  her  busy  thoughts 
and  Csesar,  who  lay  restless  at  her  feet,  one  of  his  great 
eyes  blinking  up  at  her,  while  the  other  seemed  to  be 
stealthily  watching  the  valise  in  yonder  corner.  Over 
head  she  heard  her  father  bustling  about  his  room,  now 
moving  some  heavy  object  across  the  floor,  now  open 
ing  and  closing  the  lid  of  some  box  or  trunk,  and  again 
keeping  still  for  many  minutes,  as  if  he  were  deeply 
engaged  in  a  secret  work  that  kept  his  every  movement 
quiet.  Once  she  heard  him  laughing  in  a  half-subdued 
manner  to  himself,  and  then  breaking  out  into  a  merry 
song,  to  which  he  kept  time  with  his  hands  and  feet. 
What  did  it  all  mean?  She  asked  herself  so  many 


184  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

times  that  her  brain  grew  weary  with  the  unanswered 
question.  She  had  never  before  seen  him  in  this  strange 
humor — so  gay  and  serious,  so  open  and  secretive,  by 
turns.  What  had  come  over  him  to  work  such  a  sudden 
change  in  his  speech  and  conduct  ?  Had  the  advent  of 
the  stranger  anything  to  do  with  it?  And  if  so,  what  ? 
Who  could  lie  be?  and  what  did  he  carry  in  that  odd- 
looking  box  over  there?  What  was  he  saying;  to  her 
father  when  she  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house 
and  found  them  together?  What,  too,  was  this  good 
fortune  her  father  had  said  was  coming  to  them  so 
soon?  These  and  many  other  questions  crowded  upon 
her  mind  as  she  sat  by  the  window  watching.  But  to 
each  and  every  one  she  could  find  no  answer.  The  more 
she  strove  to  solve  the  mystery  of  her  father's  conduct, 
the  more  incomprehensible  did  it  become  to  her. 

At  last,  wearied  out  with  the  effort,  she  laid  her  aching- 
head  upon  her  hand  and  gazed  down  the  village  road, 
along  which  as  yet  had  passed  nothing  save  two  farmers' 
wagons,  whose  occupants,  as  they  drew  near  the  cottage, 
whipped  up  their  teams  and  dashed  quickly  by,  as  if 
influenced  by  some  superstitious  fear  of  the  place.  Across 
the  distant  tree-tops  came  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun. 
As  he  slowly  descended  into  his  gorgeous  couch  of  crim 
son  and  purple  clouds  he  cast  back,  through  an  interven 
ing  gorge  in  the  woods,  a  bright  parting  beam,  which  fell 
like  a  good-night  smile  upon  the  form  of  the  girl,  bath 
ing  her  face  and  hair  in  a  soft  light  as  mellow  as  the 
glance  of  her  eyes.  Ah  !  what  but  meditations  of  love 
could  make  her  eyes  linger  upon  this  slowly-fading  land 
scape  with  such  a  tender  yearning  in  them?  Were  net 
her  thoughts  going  after  him  who  had  left  her  faster  even 
than  the  beams  of  golden  light  that  flashed  up  from  the 
setting  sun  and  stretched  their  feathery  forms  far  out 
upon  the  evening  sky?  She  asked  herself  no  questions 
now.  Her  heart  was  as  tranquil  as  that  of  the  eventide, 
which  was  bringing  the  ever-welcome  rest  of  night  upon 
the  world.  To  sit  thus  and  think  of  him,  and  call  to 
mind  with  a  readiness  of  memory  such  as  lovers  only 
have  every  look  he  had  ever  given  her,  every  word  he 
had  spoken  in  those  brief  days  when  he  was  so  kind  to 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  MISER'S  COTTAGE.      185 

her,  was  the  sweetest  joy  her  heart  could  wish,  though  his 
parting  threw  a  shadow  of  sadness  over  it  all.  Thus, 
with  a  pure  and  unselfish  love  guiding  her  every  thought 
of  him,  the  moments  passed,  filling  her  soul  with  a  more 
vivid  image  of  him,  until  his  presence  seemed  so  near 
that  her  heart  fluttered  with  joy.  Now  the  hope  grew 
brighter — she  knew  not  why — that  he  still  loved  her; 
that  he  would  not  forget  her ;  that,  if  she  had  wounded 
his  feelings,  he  would  forgive  her  and  tell  her  again  that 
he  loved  her.  How  she  longed  to  be  with  him,  so  lone 
some  must  he  be  traveling  by  himself  so  far  away  !  She 
clasped  her  little  hands  and  earnestly  raised  her  eyes,  in 
which  the  tears  glistened  like  the  stars  that  now  began  to 
twinkle  down  upon  her.  Then,  with  a  look  of  earnest, 
childish  confidence,  her  trembling  lips  breathed  out  for 
him  a  prayer  so  sweet  and  tender  that  if  an  angel  had 
passed  that  way  he  would  have  thought  her  some  celestial 
soul  imprisoned  on  earth  a  while. 

It  was  in  this  attitude,  her  hands  still  clasped  and  her 
face  looking  upward  with  a  simple  faith  that  brought 
heaven  as  near  to  her  as  if  it  were  within  the  hearing  of 
her  whispered  prayer,  that  her  father  found  her.  She 
had  been  so  absorbed  that  she  had  not  heard  his  light 
footsteps  as  he  descended  the  stairs  and  came  softly  toward 
her.  It  was  'only  when  he  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  her 
head  and  spoke  kindly  to  her  that  she  became  aware  of 
his  presence.  Even  then,  despite  the  softness  of  his  man 
ner,  she  started,  a  little  affrighted  to  find  him  standing 
thus  suddenly  beside  -her;  for  a  shooting-star  had  crossed 
the  heavens  the  instant  before,  and  she  had  audibly  uttered 
a  wish  for  it  to  carry  to  God — a  superstition  her  father 
had  once  read  to  her  from  a  quaint  old  book. 

"  Is  my  little  woman-child  trying  to  read  the  stars, 
seeking  to  find  out  her  destiny  from  them?"  he  asked, 
bending  over  her  and  caressing  her  hair,  which  had  fallen 
away  from  its  fastenings,  and,  like  a  cloud  of  gold,  rested 
upon  her  shoulders.  "  Well,  there  is  fortune  in  the  stars," 
he  said,  with  an  encouraging  nod  of  his  head,  as  he 
looked  out  upon  the  heavens,  slowly  growing  brighter  in 
the  clear,  frosty  air  of  the  approaching  night ;  "  and  good 
fortune,  too,  I  am  sure,  when  they  shine  so  brightly  as 

16  * 


186  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

now.  Yes,  the  stars  smile  gloriously  upon  us  to-night, 
and  write  our  coming  good  fortune  in  letters  of  silver 
upon  the  eternal  parchment  of  the  sky.  But  come;  it  is 
time  we  shut  out  the  world,  and  night  as  well,"  opening 
the  window  and  fastening  tight  the  thick  wooden  shutter. 
"  Let  the  stars  keep  watch  over  us  while  we  spend  the 
evening  together  in  talking  of  that  brighter  future  which 
will  as  surely  dawn  upon  us  as  will  rise  the  sun  again 
on  the  morrow." 

She  rose  from  her  seat  with  a  happy  trustfulness  in  her 
heart  that  reflected  a  calm  smile  upon  her  face,  and  set 
about  preparing  their  evening  meal  with  a  little  bustle  of 
energy,  as  if  she  would  make  amends  for  the  lateness  of 
the  hour.  First  she  closed  the  other  window-shutters ; 
then,  throwing  a  handful  of  brushwood  upon  the  smoul 
dering  coals,  she  again  placed  her  father's  arm-chair  beside 
the  chimney-corner  and  seated  him  comfortably  in  it. 
Xow,  while  the  quickly-kindling  fire  flashed  its  beams 
across  her  happy  face,  she  lighted  a  candle,  and  with  deft 
hands  and  light  steps  began  her  pleasant  task.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  table  was  ready  with  its  frugal  meal 
of  mush  and  milk — a  dish  he  loved  beyond  all  others. 

"You  see,  father  dear,"  she  said,  leading  him  at  length 
to  the  table,  "  that  I  have  remembered  what  you  said — a 
light  supper  makes  a  heavy  sleep." 

"Right,  right,  my  child  !"  he  replied  with  an  approving 
pat  upon  her  cheek,  which  seemed  to  have  caught  the 
warm,  steady  glow  of  the  fire.  "  You  are  learning  fast  to 
go  alone  in  your  care  for  me.  Rich  food  does  indeed  make 
bad  dreams.  Yet  this  dish  is  good  enough  for  a  king  and 
a  queen.  Indeed,  to  go  no  farther  for  true  royalty,  are  we 
not  king  and  queen  together? — I  the  king  whom  you  obey, 
and  you  the  queen  whom  I  love.  Ha,  ha!  my  child,  we 
have  a  little  empire  here  all  our  own — happier  in  our  pos 
sessions  than  other  kings  and  queens  have  ever  been  !" 
Then,  growing  a  trifle  serious,  he  suddenly  added,  "  But 
we  shall  soon  add  to  our  little  empire,  for  the  good  fortune 
is  coming  soon.  I  can  see  it,  and  you  have  read  it  this 
night  in  the  stars." 

Thus  he  rattled  on  through  the  meal,  his  talk  divided 
between  their  present  condition  of  contentment  and  their 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  MISER'S  COTTAGE.      187 

future  lot,  which  was  to  be  greater  far  in  all  its  means  of 
happiness.  She  listened  to  him  as  intently  and  as  pleased 
as  if  he  were  telling  her  one  of  those  wondrous  tabs  of 
enchantment  with  which  he  had  beguiled  the  lonesome 
hours  for  her  in  her  younger  days.  At  last  he  came  to 
an  abrupt  halt  in  his  speech,  and  rising  from  the  table  bid 
her  make  haste  and  clear  it  away. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten  the  stranger,"  he  said,  pulling 
out  of  his  pocket  an  odd,  old  silver  watch.  "It  is  nearly 
half-past  seven  o'clock.  He  may  be  here  at  any  moment, 
for  he  seems  like  a  strange  bird,  flying  at  random.  So 
make  haste,  little  housekeeper,  that  we  may  be  ready  to 
receive  him  in  order.  We  will  give  him  no  chance  to  pry 
into  our  ways  of  living.  He  lives  most  securely  who  lets 
the 'stranger's  eye  see  little." 

He  seated  himself  by  the  fire  and  watched  the  burning 
of  two  small  sticks,  which  he  laid  upon  the  andirons 
with  a  hesitating  motion,  and  with  something  of  his  old 
grudging  air.  Meanwhile,  the  girl  worked  as  swiftly 
as  even  his  impatience  could  wish,  though  he  looked  re 
peatedly  at  his  watch  and  leaned  more  than  once  out  of  his 
chair,  with  his  hand  to  his  ear,  listening  for  some  sound  he 
thought  he  heard  along  the  road  or  nearer  to  the  house. 
All  without  was  still ;  there  was  sound  of  neither  man 
nor  beast,  wagon  nor  footstep.  Even  Caesar,  to  whom  had 
fallen  the  remnants  of  the  supper,  lay  at  peace,  crouched 
by  the  fireside,  not  moving  a  muscle ;  only  his  eyes,  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  valise,  blinked  with  a  distrustful 
watch  fulness,  as  if,  forsooth,  it  might  suddenly  throw  off 
its  carpet  covering  and  spring  toward  him.  At  length 
Emily  finished  her  work,  and  giving  the  last  touches  of 
order  to  the  room,  she  took  her  knitting  from  a  little 
basket  on  the  mantel-shelf  and  seated  herself  beside  her 
father.  She  looked  in  his  face  for  a  smile  of  approval,  and 
asked,  as  she  nestled  closely  to  his  side, 

"  Am  I  a  good  little  housekeeper,  father?  Do  I  do  every 
thing  just  as  you  want  me  to?  I  shall  do  better,  I  know, 
every  day  if  you  will  only  trust  me  and  be  as  pleased  as 
you  are  now."  He  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head,  and 
bending  down  kissed  her,  saying,  a  touch  of  pathos  in 
his  voice, 


188  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEX. 

"I  have  been  watching  you,  Emily — I  cannot  say  with 
more  of  joy  than  of  sorrow,  for  now  I  see  that  you  have 
indeed  passed  from  the  dependency  of  childhood,  which 
was  my  greatest  joy  with  you,  to  a  motherly  care  of  myself 
which  tells  me  full  well  that  I  shall  hereafter  need  you 
more  than  you  will  me.  Yes,  yes !  My  pleasure  now 
must  be  in  receiving  that  care  which  you  have  outgrown, 
but  which  I  shall  need  more  and  more  as  these  old  hands 
grow  feebler  and  these  limbs  follow  you  with  tottering 
steps.  Ah  me!  How  the  years  have  gone  by!  It  seems 
but  a  little  while  ago  I  dandled  you  upon  these  knees  and 
put  you  to  sleep  in  these  verv  arms.  Now  you  are  a  little 
woman,  as  tall  as  your  father — ay,  stronger  even  than  he, 
and  with  form  and  features  as  full  and  fresh  as  his  are 
shriveled  and  sunken." 

There  came  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  walk,  and 
Caesar,  who  an  instant  before  had  quickly  raised  his  head 
to  listen,  now  bounded  toward  the  door  with  a  bark  that 
turned  into  a  series  of  low,  fierce  growls,  as  if  he  had  al 
ready  recognized  the  comer  as  one  who  ought  to  receive  no 
welcome  from  him. 

"  It  is  the  stranger,"  said  the  old  man,  speaking  to  Em 
ily  in  a  voice  that  was  low,  yet  tremulous  with  agitation. 
"Call  the  dog  away.  Go  with  him  to  your  room,  and 
stay  there  till  I  call  you.  I  have  business  with  this  man 
which  we  can  best  settle  alone.  Close  your  door,  too,  and 
however  curious  you  may  be,  do  not  listen  to  what  we  say, 
for  I  would  rather  tell  you  myself,  after  he  has  gone,  what 
brought  him  here.  This  much  I  can  sav,"  noticing  the 
rift  of  alarm  that  crossed  her  face :  "he  comes  on  no  evil 
errand." 

With  an  obedience  as  ready  as  it  was  trusting,  Emily 
spoke  to  the  dog,  who  came  slowly  toward  her,  still  growl 
ing  his  displeasure.  Kissing  her  father  with  a  tenderness 
of  apprehension,  she  lighted  a  candle  and  hastened  up 
stairs,  followed  by  Ctesar.  Entering  her  room,  she  closed 
the  door  with  a  trembling  hand  and  sank  down  in  her 
chair  with  Ca?sar  at  her  feet,  her  heart  beating  with  a 
strange  and  undefined  fear  that  even  her  belief  in  her 
father's  confident  words  could  not  wholly  allay. 

Meanwhile,  whoever  might  be  outside,  he  was  standing 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  MISER'S  COTTAGE.      189 

impatiently  upon  the  step  and  rapping  with  loud,  peremp 
tory  knocks  upon  the  door,  as  one  would  do  who  had  the 
right  of  entering  unquestioned.  It  was  a  series  of  raps, 
bold  and  honest,  he  gave,  not  the  sly,  hesitating  taps 
of  one  who,  on  villainy  intent,  by  quiet  approach  would 
seek  to  make  his  entrance  easier.  Nicholas  Grundle  had 
crept  on  tip  toe  to  the  door,  and  now  asked,  in  a  voice 
that  had  a  wonderful  assumption  of  steadiness  in  it, 

"  Who's  there  ?" 

"  It  is  the  man  who  left  the  valise  with  you,"  came 
back  the  reply  in  that  voice  of  peculiar  evenness  of  tone 
which  the  miser  recognized,  and  without  further  delay  took 
down  the  bar,  partially  opened  the  door,  and  peered  out 
upon  the  face  that  greeted  him  with  a  sedate  smile  of 
recognition. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Grundle,  slowly  throwing  wide  the 
door  as  the  man  entered,  and  quickly  barring  it  again. 
"  You  are  late  in  coming,  but  not  unwelcome.  Take  a 
seat  beside  the  fire,"  he  said,  shuffling  across  the  room  and 
drawing  up  a  chair  opposite  his  own,  to  which  he  motion 
ed  his  companion. 

"  The  valise  is  safe,  I  see,"  said  the  man,  glancing  to 
ward  the  corner,  as  he  threw  aside  his  cloak  and  hat,  and 
then,  briskly  rubbing  his  hands,  seated  himself  in  the 
proffered  chair.  "  Whew  !  How  good  the  fire  is  !"  he  con 
tinued,  leaning  forward  and  extending  his  hands  close  to 
the  ruddy  blaze.  "  Now,  this  is  genuine  comfort  and  cosi 
ness,"  looking  around  the  room  with  an  air  of  admira 
tion.  "A  chilly  night  outside,  but  a  blazing  open  fire 
within  and  a  good  roof  overhead.  Ah,  Mr.  Grundle  ! 
one  can  get  a  great  deal  of  solid  satisfaction  out  of  life  if 
he  would  only  cultivate  contentment  with  even  a  humble 
lot,  as  you  seem  to  have  done.  But  the  girl — the  young 
lady — your  child  ?"  he  added,  looking  again  around  the 
apartment  with  a  disappointed  expression  which  he  made 
no  attempt  to  conceal.  "Am  I  too  late  to  see  her  beau 
tiful  face  again  ?" 

"She  went  to  bed  some  time  ago,"  said  the  other  with 
a  sudden  reserve  in  his  manner.  "  Her  motto  is  like 
mine  :  ( Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise — '  " 

"  Let  me  add,"  interrupted  the  man,  with  a  light  laugh, 


190  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"  that  I  hope  the  rest  of  the  couplet  will  come  true  of  yon 
both — '  healthy,  wealthy  and  wise  ' — to  the  end  of  your 
days.  In  one  of  these  respects  I  can  help  yon,"  he  \vent 
on,  more  seriously,  glancing  for  an  instant  with  a  knowing 
expression  at  his  valise.  "For,  not  to  longer  keep  you  in 
suspense,  I  have  concluded  to  buy  your  farm,  and  at  your 
own  price — cash  down,  live  hundred  dollars  per  acre  ;  and 
what  is  still  more  to  your  advantage,  the  parties  for  whom 
I  am  making  die  purchase  will  not  take  possession  of  the 
property  before  spring.  You  can  have  the  free  use  of  the 
place  ti'll  then." 

"But  you  will  pay  me  for  it  now — as  soon  as  we  can 
get. the  papers  ready?"  asked  the  old  man,  well  concealing 
his  anxiety  and  eagerness  by  gazing  with  forced  calmness 
at  the  fire,  while  he  drummed  lightly  on  the  arms  of  his 
chair,  as  if  the  question  he  had  asked  were  a  mere  trifle 
of  business. 

"Certainly;  the  money  will  pass  between  us  as  soon  as 
the  deed  is  signed,"  was  the  reply,  given  with  a  reassuring 
promptness.  "To  facilitate  matters,  I  have  no  objection 
to  your  village  lawyer  drawing  the  deed.  I  understand 
he  is  a  good  one.  To  show  you  that  I  mean  business, 
prompt  and  conclusive,  here  is  my  card.  You  can  let 
him  insert  this  name  in  the  deed." 

Grundle  took  the  card,  and  leaning  toward  the  fire 
read,  half  aloud,  the  following,  printed  with  all  the 
flourishes  of  the  typographical  art : 

"  J.  LAWREXCE  ADAMS, 

Commercial  Agent, 

Penna.  JRailroad  Co., 

Philada." 

"  Humph  !"  he  said,  turning  over  the  card  carelessly 
and  assuming  an  indifferent  attitude,  though  his  keen 
eyes  sparkled  and  his  wrinkles  smoothed  out  a  trifle 
with  an  insinuating  smile.  "So  you  are  buying  the 
property  for  the  railroad  ?  In  that  case,  they  ought  to 
pay  me  more  for  it.  They  can  afford  it !  What's  tweity 
thousand  dollars  to  them,  when  they  are  buying  all  an 
old  man  has  in  the  world?" 

"  You  do  not  surprise  me,"  returned  the  other  with  an 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  MISER'S  COTTAGE.      191 

audible  smile,  stroking  his  moustache  with  the  jeweled 
hand,  on  which  the  serpent-ring;  shone  brighter  than  ever. 
"  I  knew  you  would  want  more  when  you  learned  who 
the  purchasers  are.  Railroads  are  considered  legitimate 
plunder  in  our  days',  and  men  who  would  disdain  to  com 
mit  an  ordinary  theft  rob  corporations  with  equanimity. 
Now,  to  be  frank  with  you,  I  am  offering  you  more  than 
I  am  afraid  the  company  will  sanction  when  I  report  to 
them  to-morrow.  I  have  been  prompted  to  make  you  this 
offer,  although  the  price  seems  to  me  very  exorbitant,  be 
cause  I  thought  it  would  induce  you  to  part  with  the  land 
without  any  higgling  as  to  price  or  continued  opposition 
to  sell,  w-hich  latter  case  would  for  the  present  materially 
interfere  with  our  plans,  although  we  could  eventually 
change  them  with  little  difficulty,  for  there  are  other 
places  in  this  vicinity  that  would  probably  suit  my 
clients  fully  as  well  as  yours." 

"  Take  the  land,  then,  at  your  own  price/'  was  the  old 
man's  surly  rejoinder  as  he  flung  out  his  hand  with  an 
impatient  gesture.  "  Who  asked  you  to  give  more  for  it? 
I  didn't.  I  only  said  you  might  add  a  little  to  the  price, 
since  the  money  you  are  paying  is  not  yours.  If  you 
would,  I  might  divide  a  nice  little  sum  with  you ;"  and 
he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  man  with  a  look  of  deep  and 
meaning  cunning. 

"  A  very  tempting  oifer.  I  am  sorry,  both  for  your 
sake  and  mine,  I  cannot  accept  it.  So,  if  you  are  not 
pleased  with  my  terms,  we  had  better  let  the  subject 
drop.  Perhaps  you  can  dispose  of  your  land  to  a  better 
advantage  in  some  other  way." 

"  Didn't  I  say  the  land  was  yours  at  your  own  price  ? 
How  many  more  times  do  you  want  my  word  to  pass  the 
bargain  ?  Here  !  If  you  mean  business  as  I  do,  read 
that  paper,  and  see  whether  you  will  sign  it."  He  took 
from  the  pocket  of  his  faded  and  tattered  coat  a  folded 
sheet  of  paper,  which  he  opened  with  a  brisk  air  and 
handed  to  his  companion.  The  man,  holding  the  paper 
so  that  the  light  of  the  fire  fell  upon  it,  read  it  carefully, 
and  then,  glancing  over  its  top  at  the  other,  who  had  been 
keenly  watching  him,  said, 

"This  is  an  agreement  on  my  part  to  buy  your  farm  as 


192  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

soon  as  the  deed  can  be  made  out.  It  also  calls  for  an 
immediate  payment  of  five  hundred  dollars  as  earnest- 
money.  A  carefully- written  and  legally-worded  docu 
ment.  Did  you  draw  it?" 

"No  matter  who  drew  it.  Will  you  sign  it?  That's 
the  point  to  be  settled  now.  I  never  admire  an  agreement 
until  it  is  signed." 

"  Of  course  I  will  sign  it!"  laughed  the  man,  good- 
naturedly  ;  "and  pay  you  the  money  in  a  cheque,  or  gold, 
or  notes,  just  as  you  prefer.  Have  you  pen  and  ink  here?" 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Grundle,  rising  from  his  chair 
with  sudden  alacrity,  his  face  covered  with  a  greedy,  eager 
smile,  and  taking  from  the  mantel  an  old  inkstand  and 
pen,  which  he  placed  upon  the  table,  under  the  dim  light 
of  the  candle,  which  he  snuffed  into  a  feeble  glow.  The 
man  wrote  his  name  in  a  bold,  vigorous  hand,  and  then, 
turning  to  the  other,  asked, 

"  Who  will  be  our  witness  to  this  document?  Ah,  a 
happy  thought !  Your  daughter  might  sign  it — " 

"  No  need  of  any  witness,"  interrupted  Grundle,  with  a 
quick  negative  shake  of  his  head.  "  When  men  intend 
to  stand  by  their  bargain,  as  you  and  I  do,  there  is  no  need 
of  a  witness  to  their  promise." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  say,"  rising  from  the  table,  and 
handing  Grundle  the  paper,  which  he  carefully  folded  and 
put  back  into  his  pocket.  "  Now  for  the  money.  How 
will  you  have  it — in  gold  or  notes?  For  I  fear  a  cheque 
would  not  have  enough  of  the  appearance  of  money  for 

you." 

"  I'll  take  it  in  gold.  That  fills  the  eye  as  well  as  the 
hand.  It  always  seems  to  me  more  like  money  than  any 
thing  else." 

"  So  it  does,"  laughed  the  stranger,  tapping  the  old  man 
familiarly  on  the  shoulder;  "and  you  shall  have  it  fresh 
and  shining  from  the  mint,  in  bright  pieces,  unstained  by 
the  tears  of  poverty  and  unsoiled  by  the  greedy  grasp  of 
avarice." 

He  went  to  his  valise,  threw  off  the  carpet,  and,  tak 
ing  a  bundle  of  keys  from  his  pocket,  proceeded  to  open 
it ;  and  while  he  was  doing  this  Nicholas  Grundle  sud 
denly  busied  himself  about  the  fire,  stirring  np  the 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  MISER'S  COTTAGE.       193 

coals,  and  putting  on  a  small  stick  or  two  with  far  more 
noise  and  exertion  than  seemed  necessary,  and  all  the  time 
his  eves  kept  up  their  furtive  glances  upon  the  stranger's 
movements. 

"  Something  is  the  matter  with  this  padlock,"  said  the 
man,  turning  to  Grundle  after  several  ineffectual  attempts 
to  turn  the  key. 

The  old  man  went  on  stirring  the  fire  with  increased 
vigor,  all  at  once  strangely  oblivious  to  everything  else  in 
the  room. 

"  I  cannot  open  my  valise,"  said  the  stranger  in  a  loud 
voice,  coming  toward  the  fireplace  and  laying  his  hand  on 
Grundle's  •  arm  to  attract  his  attention.  "The  lock  is 
broken.  I  shall  have  to  pay  you  in  greenbacks." 

"Eh?  Lock  broken!  greenbacks!"  exclaimed  the  old 
man  turning  round,  as  he  dropped  the  poker  and  faced 
the  other  with  a  look  of  dazed  inquiry.  "  How — how  did 
you  break  it?" 

"  Turned  the  key  too  quickly,  I  guess.  But  it  doesn't 
matter  to-night,  if  you  will  take  greenbacks.  I  will  ex 
change  them  for  gold  to-morrow  when  I  sign  the  deed,  if 
you  have  it  ready  at  that  time." 

"  It  will  be  ready  to-morrow.  Too  bad  about  the  lock! 
I  will  take  greenbacks  to-night." 

Again  he  took  up  the  poker,  and  began  to  rearrange 
the  fire  with  a  look  of  relief  and  satisfaction.  The  man, 
he  thought,  had  not  suspected  him,  and  would  doubtless 
leave  the  valise  still  longer  in  his  charge. 

"  Here  is  your  money  ;"  and  as  Grundle,  comprehending 
more  readily  now,  turned  slowly  around,  the  stranger, 
taking  from  a  large  wallet  several  crisp,  unfolded  bills, 
placed  them  in  his  hand.  "  There  are  five  one-hundred- 
dollar  bills.  Am  I  right?" 

"  Yes,"  slowly  returned  Grundle,  his  trembling  hands 
going  over  the  notes  one  by  one,  which  rattled  in  his  ex 
cited  grasp  as  he  thrust  them  deep  into  his  pocket.  "  But 
you  will  exchange  them  for  gold  to-morrow  ?" 

"Certainly!  Bur,"  looking  at  his  watch,  "it  is  get 
ting  late.  I  must  go :  I  have  quite  a  distance  before 
me.  By  the  by,  can  I  leave  this  valise  here  until  to 
morrow  ?" 

17  N 


194  AS  IT  MAY  IIAPPKX. 

"  I  have  no  objection,"  was  the  indifferent  response.  "  I 
guess  it  will  be  safe  here." 

"Yes;  but  hardly  safe  in  that  corner,  should  any 
one  break  into  your  house.  Let  me  see  :  where  can  we 
hide  it?"  looking  slowly  about  the  room,  and  finally  fix 
ing  his  eyes  upon  the  cellar-door.  "Oh,  there  is  the  cel 
lar  ;  suppose  we  put  it  down  there?  Xo  one  would  ever 
think  of  looking  in  the  cellar  for  valuables,  even  if  he 
suspected  you  had  any  about  the  house." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  he  made  a  movement  toward 
the  cellar-door,  as  if  to  open  it. 

"It  will  be  just  as  safe  where  it  is,"  said  Grand le,  a 
trifle  of  sharpness  in  his  tremulous  voice,  the  only  thing 
about  him  that  betrayed  agitation,  so  well  was  he  con 
trolling  himself  at  this  moment,  which  he  felt  to  be  so 
critical  for  the  guarding  of  jiis  hidden  treasure.  "Be 
sides,  the  cellar-door  is  locked,  and  my  child  has  the  key. 
It  is  not  worth  while  to  waken  her  for  it." 

"  I  should  certainly  be  very  sorry  to  disturb  her  sweet 
dreams  for  anything  trivial,"  returned  the  man  with  an 
apologetic  wave  of  his  hand.  "  But,  seriously,  I  much 
prefer  to  leave  the  valise  hidden  away  in  your  cellar,  for 
I  don't  hesitate  to  tell  yon  that  it  contains  that  which  if 
lost  would  ruin  me.  You  would  very  much  oblige  me,  and 
put  me  at  my  ea.se  for  the  night,  if  you  would  accede  to 
my  wishes.  Perhaps  your  daughter  is  not  asleep.  If  not, 
you  can  readily  get  the  key  without  disturbing  her — no 
more,  indeed,  than  our  talking  this  evening  may  have 
done." 

"  Do  I  not  tell  yon  the  valise  is  safe  where  it  is  ?  If 
you  do  not  believe  me,  and  cannot  trust  it  for  the  night 
where  it  has  been  all  day,  you  had  better  take  it  with 
yon." 

Shaking  his  head  stubbornly,  the  old  man  began  to 
shuffle  about  the  room,  setting  the  chairs  back,  and  mak 
ing  other  movements  about  the  fire  and  windows  that 
should  suggest  to  his  guest  that  he  was  impatient  for 
his  departure. 

"Well,  good-night,  friend  Grundle !"  said  the  man, 
after  a  pause,  during  which  he  had  boon  covertly  examin 
ing  the  cellar-door,  and  noted  the  strong  lock  upon  it. 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  MISER'S  COTTAGE.      195 

"  We  will  leave  the  valise  where  it  is.  I  am  satisfied  that 
it  will  be  safe  enough.  To-morrow  afternoon  I  shall  be 
here,  if  you  say  you  will  have  the  deed  ready.  .  We  can 
then  go  to  the  village  and  have  it  properly  witnessed." 

"The  deed  shall  be  ready,"  replied  the  old  man  with 
an  emphatic  shake  of  his  head.  "Only  see  to  it  that  you 
are.  You  can  bring  the  notary  here.  I  am  too  old  to  go 
to  the  village  on  foot." 

There  came  the  sound  of  running  footsteps  along  the 
village  road.  Grundle  started  a  little,  and  looked  ner 
vously  toward  his  gun,  advancing  cautiously  to  where  it 
stood  as  the  sound  came  nearer. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  said  the  man,  waving  him  back. 
"  It's  only  some  country  lover  chased  by  his  shadow,  I'll 
warrant  you." 

He  opened  the  door  and  peered  out  just  as  the  form  of 
a  young  man  darted  by  the  house,  but  not  so  quickly  that 
the  stranger  failed  to  recognize  him,  for  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  scared  face  of  the  barkeeper  whom  he  had  met  at 
the  village  inn. 

"  Who  was  it  ?' '  asked  Grundle,  with  his  gun  in  his 
hand,  as  the  man  closed  the  door.  "  Has  he  gone  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  far  out  of  sight  by  this  time,  even  if  it  were 
daylight,  so  that  we  could  look  after  him.  Well,  I  think 
I  will  follow  him,  but  not  so  rapidly." 

With  a  parting  shake  of  the  old  man's  hand,  which  he 
felt  was  cold  and  trembling,  the  stranger  bade  him  good 
night  and  went  out.  He  had  hardly  left  the  step  before 
the  door  was  closed  upon  him,  and  he  heard  the  wooden 
bar  fall  with  a  heavy  thud  into  its  sockets. 

"Let  him  bar  his  door," chuckled  the  man  as  he  turned 
into  the  main  road  in  an  opposite  direction  to  the  village. 
"So  much  safer  will  his  treasure  be  for  him  to-night,  and 
for  me  when — I  choose  to  take  it.  So  he  keeps  his  money 
in  the  cellar !  I'll  warrant  it's  hidden  behind  some  stone 
in  the  wall,  or  in  a  box  covered  with  rubbish.  I  know  I 
could  lay  my  hand  upon  it,  for  the  cunning  method  of 
its  concealment  would  leave  some  tell-tale  trace.  De 
ceived  old  man !  He  has  been  trying  to  pick  the  locks  of 
my  valise,  and  thinks  by  his  innocent  manner  when  1  was 
trying  the  key  he  warded  off  any  suspicions  I  might  have 


196  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

» 

had  of  him.  How  stubborn  he  was  about  opening  the 
cellar-door!  Of  course  I  was  sure,  from  his  forced  calm 
ness  betraying  itself  in  look  and  gesture,  that  there  was  no 
other  reason  for  not  opening  it  than  that  he  hadn't  the 
key.  Crafty,  indeed,  he  is;  but  after  all  his  artfulness 
he  deceives  himself  more  than  any  one  else,  especially 
poor,  innocent  J.  Lawrence  Adams!" 

And  with  a  smothered  laugh  of  satisfaction,  which  would 
have  made  Nicholas  Grnndle  quake  with  fear  had  he  heard 
it,  the  man  walked  rapidly  on  until  he  came  almost  up  to 
the  farm-house.  Here  he  stopped  several  moments,  and 
debated,  with  a  malicious  smile,  whether  he  should  pay  the 
inmates  another  of  his  unwelcome  visits.  There  were  two 
reasons  that  urged  him  to  do  so — his  pure  love  of  deviltry 
and  his  desire  to  find  out  what  had  been  the  barkeeper's 
errand  there;  for  he  had  instantly  surmised,  on  seeing 
Dibbs  run  past  the  cottage,  that  he  had  been  at  the  farm 
house.  At  last  he  decided  to  forego  both  the  pleasure  of 
one  of  these  reasons  and  the  interest  of  the  other. 

"There  'is  nothing  for  me  to  gain  by  seeing  them  to 
night.  Better  for  my  present  purpose,  in  fact,  that  they 
should  think  me  miles  away  from  here.  As  to  that  bar 
keeper  spying  around  the  house,  as  he  has  evidently  been 
doing,  whv  he  will  now  be  obliged  to  remain  in  ignorance 
of  my  identity  for  some  time  to  come."  Drawing  his 
cloak  closely  about  him,  and  pulling  his  hat  far  over  his 
face,  he  continued  on  with  a  brisk  walk  down  the  road, 
like  a  dark  shadow  of  evil  stealing  along  in  the  still  darker 
night. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

A   FEIEXD  IX DEED. 

cars  rapidly  bore  Volncy  Slade  away  from  Slow- 
_L  ville  in  no  enviable  state  of  mind.  His  passion  had 
cooled  ;  Reason  had  returned  to  taunt  him  with  his  fool 
ishness,  and  well  did  she  do  it.  Even  the  knowledge 
that  he  was  at  last  free  from  the  annoying  presence  of  his 
stepfather,  the  drudgery  of  farm-life,  and  the  fact  that  he 


.1    FRIEND  INDEED.  197 

was  about  to  seek  his  fortune  in  a  great  city,  which  had 
always  been  a  charming  prospect  to  him,  could  not  give 
him  one  bit  of  happiness  now.  None  of  these  consider 
ations,  which  at  any  other  time  would  have  gladdened  his 
heart,  could  bring  the  faintest  smile  of  exhilaration  or 
peace  to  his  troubled  countenance.  He  had  quarreled 
with  the  girl  he  loved — yes,  worshiped  now,  he  knew,  as 
the  cars  seemed  with  a  malicious  speed  to  bear  him  farther 
and  farther  from  her,  while  his  goaded  fancy  brought  her 
nearer  and  nearer,  until  he  could  see  her  sad,  reproachful 
face,  from  which  he  had  turned  away  without  so  much  as 
a  parting  glance  of  tenderness — nothing  but  a  cold  kiss, 
Avhich  made  the  lips  that  gave  it  quiver  now  with  remorse. 
The  more  he  thought  of  her — he  could  think  of  nothing 
else,'  and  would  not  if  he  could — the  more  he  blamed 
himself;  the  more  he  pitied  her,  the  more  he  loved  her, 
until  he  was  so  wrought  up  that  he  resolved  to  leave  the 
train  at  the  next  stopping-place  and  hurry  back  on  foot  to 
her  to  ask  her  forgiveness  and  tell  her  that,  despite  the 
mean  words  he  had  spoken  and  the  cruel  way  in  which  he 
had  acted,  he  did  love  her  with  all  his  heart  and  trusted 
her  love  for  him  with  all  his  soul. 

Resolved  on  this  as  the  only  honorable  course  he  could 
pursue  and  the  speediest  reparation  he  could  make,  he 
caught  up  his  valise  and  went  in  search  of  the  conductor. 
From  him,  to  his  dismay  as  well  as  disappointment,  he 
learned  that  the  train,  being  a  through  and  not  a  local 
one,  would  make  its  first  stop  some  forty  miles  away. 
Reluctantly  indeed  he  went  back  to  his  seat  and  strove  to 
calm  his  thoughts;  but  the  more  he  tried  the  harder  he 
found  it  to  alleviate  in  the  slightest  the  wretched  memory 
of  the  injustice  he  had  done.  The  patience  with  which 
she  had  borne  it  all  added  a  doubly-keener  edge  to  the 
poignancy  of  his  remorse.  Nor  would  his  memory  rest 
content  with  this  tantalizing  review  of  what  he  had  done; 
but,  with  a  strange  pertinacity  of  willfulness,  it  brought 
rapidly  to  his  vision  every  little  incident  of  his  acquaint 
ance  with  her,  until  her  form  seemed  to  be  beside  him, 
and  her  voice,  so  sweet  and  trusting,  ringing  with  a  sad 
cadence  in  his  very  ears.  It  was  in  vain  that,  to  quiet  his 
mind,  he  told  himself  he  would  write  a  letter  of  repent- 

1T* 


198  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

ance  to  her  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  city ;  that  this  letter 
he  would  send  in  the  charge  of  Aziel  Loyd,  who  would 
deliver  it  safely  despite  the  keen  watchfulness  of  Emily's 
father;  and  to  this  letter  he  should  receive  a  speedy  an 
swer  of  forgiveness.  His  thoughts  would  not  thus  be 
calmed,  but  to  this  and  every  other  scheme  his  busy 
brain  suggested  they  opposed  doubts  and  fears,  until  he 
fully  experienced,  to  his  unavailing  sorrow,  as  the  cars 
carried  him  farther  away  from  the  loving  heart  he  had 
wounded,  how  much  easier  it  is  to  do  a  wrong  than  to 
forget  or  retrieve  it. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when,  wearied  out  with 
the  conflict  he  had  waged  with  his  hopes  and  fears,  he 
found  a  little  peace  in  .the  determination  that  he  would 
not  only  write  Emily  such  a  letter  as  should  restore  him 
again  to  her  affections,  but,  to  make  sure  of  its  lasting 
effect,  he  would,  as  soon  as  possible  after  securing  his  situ 
ation,  go  back  to  Slowville  and  ask  her  forgiveness  face  to 
face.  In  the  endeavor  to  banish  further  consideration  of 
the  subject  from  his  mind  as  much  as  he  could,  he  went 
forward  into  the  smoking-car.  Here,  lighting  his  cigar, 
he  ensconced  himself  in  a  double  seat,  and  devoted  his 
thoughts,  a  trifle  placid  now,  to  the  contemplation  of  the 
new  life  upon  which  he  was  about  entering,  and  in  which 
he  was  fully  confident  of  achieving  success.  While  thus 
engaged  in  castle-building,  the  smoke  of  his  cigar  curling 
upward  among  the  lofty  edifices  of  his  dreams,  he  was 
interrupted  by  a  slight  tap  upon  his  shoulder  as  a  mid 
dle-aged  man  of  rustic  dress  and  appearance  bluntly 
asked  him  to  move  along  a  little,  and  took  a  seat  besid,: 
him. 

"  Car's  rather  crowded,"  said  the  man,  taking  out  a 
briarwood  pipe,  which  he  leisurely  proceeded  to  fill  from 
a  tobacco-pouch  of  chamois-skin  curiously  wrought  with 
beads.  Volney  looked  around,  and  saw  that  the  car  had 
indeed  been  filled  since  his  entrance.  Every  seat  was  oc 
cupied,  and  the  dense  smoke  told  how  vigorously,  to  say 
the  least,  the  devotees  of  tobacco  were  enjoying  the  send 
ing  up  of  incense  to  its  invisible  shrine. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  with  more  cordiality  in  his  manner 
than  with  which  he  had  at  first  received  the  stranger ; 


A   FRIEND  INDEED.  199 

"  the  car  is  very  full.  I  had  no  idea  I  was  monopolizing 
the  only  unoccupied  seat." 

"That's  all  right.  A  man  must  look  out  himself  for 
his  comfort  when  traveling.  AYheii  he  can  loll  in  two 
seats,  he's  a  fool  to  sit  straight  up  in  one.  Going  down 
to  the  city,  I  suppose?"  asking  the  question  between  the 
preliminary  puffs  of  lighting  his  pipe,  and  turning  his 
square,  honest  face  on  Volney. 

"  Yes ;  that  is  my  destination.  How  far  off  from  the 
city  are  we?  It  seems  an  endless  ride  to  me." 

"  That's  because  you're  anxious  to  get  there,"  laughed 
the  man,  good-naturedly,  leaning  back  in  his  seat,  and 
evidently  "composing  himself  for  a  quiet  time  with  his 
pipe;  "all  you  have  to  do  is  to  draw  upon  your  patience 
another  hour,  and  then  you  will'  find  yourself  in  Phil 
adelphia,  where  the  streets  are  as  straight  as  a  yardstick 
and  the  houses  as.  much  alike  as  tombstones  in  a  grave 
yard." 

"  You  are  evidently  not  an  admirer  of  the  place." 

"Oh  yes  ;  I  like  it  as  well  as  I  do  any  city,"  rejoined 
the  other  with  a  contemptuous  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 
"They  are  all  alike,  these  cities — full  of  lying  and  devil 
try.  City  folks  live  by  lying,  cheating  and  robbing. 
Give  me  the  country  people  for  good  old-fashioned,  hon 
est  dealing." 

"Do  you  know  much  about  Philadelphia?"  asked  Vol 
ney  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  was  congratulating 
himself  upon  having  made  the  acquaintance  of  this 
man,  who  would  be  of  service  in  directing  him  to  some 
cheap  and  good  hotel.  "If  so,  perhaps  you  could  tell 
me  of  a  moderate-priced  hotel  where  I  could  lodge  to 
night  ?" 

"  Go  to  the  Bull's  Head.  That's  where  I  stay.  It's  a 
house  for  fanners — plain  food,  clean  rooms  and  comfort 
able  beds  ;  and  it  doesn't  cost  the  price  of  a  load  of  hay 
to  stay  there  a  day,  either." 

"Thank  you!  I  will  avail  myself  of  your  kind  ad 
vice,"  said  Volney,  taking  out  a  memorandum-book  and 
writing  down  the  name  of  the  hotel.  "Will  you  please 
give  me  the  name  of  the  street  and  the  number  ?" 

"  No  need  of  that.     You  can  come  along  with  me  if 


200  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPKX. 

you  choose.  I  will  introduce  you  to  the  landlord,  and 
that  will  get  you  one  of  the  best  rooms  in  the  house." 

Again  Volney  began  to  thank  him  for  his  courtesy, 
but  the  stranger  put  out  his  hand  with  a  deprecating 
gesture. 

"  Now,  don't  thank  me  for  doing  a  civil  action,"  he  said. 
"  It's  no  more  than  1  would  expect  you  to  do  for  me  if  I 
was  coining  to  the  city  for  the  first  time,  as  I  suspect  you 
are.  Going  to  clerk  it?" 

"  Xot  exactly.  I  am  going  to  learn  to  be  a  machinist 
— that  is,  if  I  can." 

"Well,  if  a  man  has  any  brains,  he  can  learn  to  be  al 
most  anything — provided  he  sticks  to  it.  Sticking  to  it  is 
what  tells  in  the  long  run.  You  don't  look  much  like  a 
mechanic,  though.  Been  raised  on  a  farm,  like  myself,  I 
take  it.  Got  tired  of  farming  and  going  down  to  the  city 
to  try  your  luck.  Eh  ?" 

"  You  have  described  my  case  precisely,"  rejoined  Vol 
ney,  turning  on  his  companion  a  look  of  admiration  at 
the  penetration  he  had  displayed.  "I  am  exchanging  the 
farm  for  the  factory,  the  plow  for  the  spindle,  and  gladly, 
too.  I  wish,  since  you  are  so  apt  at  guessing  the  past,  you 
could  tell  me  what  kind  of  luck  you  think  I  will  have  in 
my  new  life." 

"That  I  can  easily  do.  Luck  in  business  is  the  same  as 
luck  in  farming,  supposing  you  work  hard  in  both  cases. 
If  you  have  good  seed,  good  soil  and  good  weather,  you 
will  have  good  luck  with  your  crops.  So,  my  friend,  if  you 
have  a  good  situation,  a  good  employer,  and  the  times  are 
good,  you  will  have  good  luck.  Do  you  want  my  advice?" 

"  Certainly,  and  very  thankful  I  shall  be  for  it,"  an 
swered  the  young  man,  his  admiration  for  the  man  deep 
ening  every  moment,  even  as  his  gratitude  increased. 

"  Well,  here  it  is;"  and  as  he  spoke  the  farmer  took  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth  and  shook  his  forefinger  with  a  slow, 
impressive  motion.  "Work  hard  and  keep  your  eyes  open. 
Good  luck  will  come  to  you  in  time,  only  you  must  be 
ready  to  seize  your  chance  when  it  does  come;  for,  remem 
ber,  good  luck,  like  lightning,  never  strikes  twice  in  the 
same  place.  But  pshaw !  What's  the  use  of  my  preach 
ing  to  you  ?  I  guess  your  father  gave  you  enough  of  that 


A  FRIEND   INDEED.  201 

before  you  left  home.  Besides,  we  were  nearer  the  city 
than  I  thought  when  you  asked  me.  See !  here  we  are  at 
Frankford.  We  shall  be  in  Philadelphia  in  a  very  little 
while."  Volney  followed  the  direction  of  the  man's  finger, 
and  as  the  train  roared  and  dashed  through  the  village  he 
could  just  see,  in  the  dusky  distance,  the  twinkling  glim 
mer  of  the  city  gaslights,  pioneers  alike  of  taxes  and  of 
life,  stretching  in  long  straight  lines  far  out  into  the  country, 
with  scattered  houses  here  and  there  to  keep  them  company. 

As  he  gazed  at  the  quickly-moving  panorama,  and  saw 
row  after  row  of  houses  rise  out  of  the  gloom,  and  lofty 
steeples  outlining  themselves  against  the  darkening  sky 
like  grim'  sentinels  of  the  night,  and  the  red  flare  of  fur 
naces  and  factories,  whose  tall  chimneys,  blazing  with  a 
lurid  light,  seemed  giant  torches  thrust  toward  heaven,  a 
slight  feeling  of  dread  came  over  him  at  the  thought  that 
in  this  great  place,  where  the  lights  of  thousands  of  happy 
homes  swept  across  his  vision  wherever  he  looked,  he  would 
be  a  stranger.  Alone  and  in  a  great  city!  So  many  thou 
sands,  and  not  one  friend!  What  solitude  more  dreadful ! 
Meditating  thus,  his  head  sunk  upon  his  hand,  he  pressed 
his  face  against  the  window  and  peered  out  upon  the  glar 
ing  street  through  which  they  went,  so  full  of  life  and 
bustle  and  noise  of  men,  women  and  children  that  he  felt 
he  was  indeed  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.  Not  a  familiar 
face  in  all  this  throng  that  watched  the  train  go  by!  Not 
a  voice  he  had  ever  heard  before ! 

"  Come,  my  young  friend !"  said  the  man  at  his  elbow 
as  the  cars  slowly  entered  the  dep6t.  "  Here  we  are. 
Hurry  up  if  you  want  to  get  a  good  room  at  the  Bull's 
Head  !  Got  any  baggage  ?" 

"Yes;  a  valise.  It  is  checked.  It  will  only  take  me 
a  few  minutes  to  get  it." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  other,  leading  the  way  as  they 
passed  out  of  the  car.  Then,  whispering,  and  giving  Vol 
ney  a  mysterious  nudge  with  his  elbow  as  they  walked 
along  the  platform,  "Watch  sharp  and  keep  your  hand 
on  your  pocket-book.  Pickpockets  around  here  thicker 
than  crows  in  a  cornfield." 

Volney  stopped  short  with  a  little  start  of  terror.  Rob 
bed  of  his  money  !  His  hand  quickly  sought  his  pocket ; 


202  AS  IT  MA  Y  1IMTEX. 

and  grasping  within  it  his  wallet,  he  held  it  in  a  vise-like 
grip.  Then  he  struggled  through  the  crowd  to  catch  up 
with  his  companion,  who,  with  a  carpet-bag  held  in  front 
of  him,  was  making  his  war  rapidly,  and  eagerly  looking 
about  him  as  they  passed  into  the  main  saloon,  as  if  lie  were 
expecting  to  meet  some  one  he  knew. 

"Come  out  this  way,"  he  said,  catching  hold  of  the 
young  man's  arm  and  hurrying  him  toward  a  side  door. 
"They  unload  the  baggage  here,"  he  continued  as  they 
stood  outside  the  depot  in  a  dimly-lighted  side  street  where 
stretched  long  rows  of  freight-cars.  "Besides,  there's  one 
of  these  city  skinflints  who  says  I  owe  him  some  money, 
and  he's  always  on  the  watch  for  me  when  I  come  to  the, 
city.  By  going  along  this  street  I  shall  get  out  of  his 
way.  It  isn't  a  fair  debt,  or  I  would  have  paid  it  long 
ago.  But  I  expect  I  will  have  to  pay  it,  though,  if  he 
should  catch  me  to-night.  He  swore  that  if  I  didn't  the 
next  time  he  caught  me  in  the  city,  he  would  have  me 
arrested.  Hello!  it's  no  use  dodging  him.  There  he 
comes  now,  like  a  dog  on  full  scent.  Stand  by  me,  and 
you  will  see  what  swindlers  these  city  fellows  are." 

As  he  was  speaking  a  thick-set,  burly-looking  fellow, 
who  seemed  to  leap  out  of  the  darkness,  came  toward 
them  with  a  menacing  attitude.  Shaking  his  fist  and 
head  at  Sladc's  companion,  he  said, 

"See  here,  farmer  Jones,  this  thing  of  trying  to  get 
away  from  this  depot  without  my  seeing  you  is  played 
out.  I  want  you  to  come  to  time  to-night.  Mind,  I  am 
all  ready  for  you  if  you  don't !  I  have  got  a  constable 
round  the  corner  yonder,  and  I'll  introduce  him  to  you 
mighty  quick  unless  you  pay  this  bill,"  drawing  a  piece 
of  letter-paper  from  his  pocket  and  rattling  it  in  the 
other's  face. 

"  How  much  is  the  bill  you  claim  against  me,  Mr. 
Street?"  said  the  man  addressed,  becoming  greatly  agi 
tated  and  turning  a  distressed  face  on  Slade,  whose  earn 
est,  sympathetic  look  and  watchful  attitude  showed  how 
deeply  he  was  interested. 

"  You  know  well  enough  how  much  it  is.  Forty-five 
dollars,  and  not  a  cent  less.  So  come  down  with  the 
amount,  right  here  and  now." 


A  FRIEND  INDEED.  203 

"  I  can't  pay  you  to-night.  I  haven't  got  the  money. 
You  know  I  don't  owe  you  a  cent ;  but,  sooner  than  be 
arrested  and  go  to  law  about  it,  I  will  pay  you  if  you 
will  wait  till  to-morrow  morning.  I  shall  get  paid  then 
for  a  lot  of  turkeys  I  have  brought  down  to  market.  Or, 
if  you  will  go  with  me  down  to  the  Bull's  Head,  I  will 
borrow  the  money  there  and  pay  you." 

"  Boots  cost  too  much  to  wear  them  out  running  after 
an  honest  debt  like  this,"  said  the  man,  with  a  contempt 
uous  leer,  as  he  turned  on  his  heel.  "  I'll  call  the  con 
stable.  A  night  in  the  station-house  will  give  you  a 
chance  to  count  up  how  much  those  turkeys  will  come 
to." 

"  Stop  !"  said  Volney,  speaking  now  for  the  first  time 
and  faying  his  hand  upon  the  man's  arm.  "You  can 
have  your  money  now.  I  will  lend  my  friend  the 
amount." 

Despite  the  protest  of  the  farmer,  Volney  drew  forth 
his  pocket-book,  and  counting  out  the  sum  placed  it  in  the 
farmer's  hand,  saying, 

"  It's  every  cent  I've  got,  but  you  are  welcome  to  it. 
You  can  pay  me  back  when  we  get  to  the  hotel.  I  can 
wait  that  long  for  it,  even  if  this  man  can't." 

Wiping  his  eyes  upon  his  sleeve,  the  farmer  thanked  his 
young  friend  in  a  broken  voice,  and  paid  over  the  money, 
receiving  his  bill  in  exchange  from  the  man,  who  there 
upon  left  them,  muttering  that  he  had  as  kind  a  heart  as 
anybody,  but  that  was  no  reason  people  shouldn't  pay  him 
what  they  owed  him. 

The  man  had  just  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the 
building  when  the  farmer,  holding  up  the  bill,  cried,  with 
a  glance  of  dismay  as  he  looked  at  it  in  the  feeble  glare 
of  the  gaslight  above  them, 

"  The  scoundrel  has  not  receipted  this  bill !  Wait  a 
minute  and  watch  my  valise,"  quickly  turning  to  Volney 
and  throwing  the  valise  at  his  feet.  "  I'll  soon  catch  him. 
I'll  let  him  know  I  am  not  so  green  as  I  look." 

He  darted  in  the  direction  the  man  had  gone,  leaving 
Volney  so  excited  in  the  result  of  the  chase  that  he  could 
hardly  restrain  himself  from  joining  in  it.  As  it  was,  he 
caught  up  the  valise  and  ran  to  the  corner  just  in  time  to 


204  AS  IT  MAY  IIAPPJ-:.\. 

see  his  friend  disappear  at  full  speed  down  a  narrow  street, 
where  he  was  soon  lost  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  GLIMPSE  AT  CITY  LIFE. 

TTERY  impatiently  indeed  did  Volney  Slade  stand  in 
V  the  darkened  corner  of  the  depot  wall  straining  his 
eyes  through  the  gloom  for  the  returning  form  of  his 
friend,  and  listening  intently  to  hear  the  sound  of  his 
coining  footsteps.  Moment  after  moment  passed,  and 
there  was  neither  sight  nor  sound  of  his  return.  As 
he  waited  the  street  seemed  to  him  to  grow  darker  and 
more  quiet.  He  now  began  to  fear  that  his  friend  might 
have  caught  up  with  the  man  only  to  be  felled  to  the 
ground  by  a  quick  blow  from  an  assassin. 

Alarmed  by  this  apprehension,  he  could  remain  where 
he  was  no  longer.  He  started  in  search  of  the  farmer, 
regretting  half  audibly  that  he  had  not  accompanied  him 
on  his  errand,  which  had  evidently  turned  out  so  disas 
trously.  As  lie  started  on  a  run  down  the  street  to 
retrieve,  if  possible,  his  neglect  ere  it  was  too  late,  the 
form  of  a  man  suddenly  confronted  him,  and  a  quick, 
firm  grasp  sei/ed  his  arm.  One  glance  told  Volney  that 
he  was  in  the  hands  of  a  policeman,  whose  eyes  had  a 
twinkle  in  them  as  malicious  as  that  of  the  badge  that 
glistened  on  his  breast  as  he  said, 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  boy — not  so  fast !  Trying  to  make 
way  with  a  valise,  are  you?  Thought  you'd  dodge  Sandy 
Grill  round  a  dark  corner,  did  you?  But  you  didn't 
know  as  Sandy  Grill  has  got  his  bat-eyes  on  to-night,  and 
was  watching  yon  standing  here  for  a  chance  to  slope. 
So  come  along,  my  pretty  bird !  There's  a  cage  as  is 
waiting  for  you." 

The  young  man's  first  impulse  of  innocence  and  sur 
prise  was  to  shake  off  the  man's  hold,  but  it  only  grew 
tighter,  and  a  baton  suddenly  flourished  before  his  eyes  a? 
Sandy  Grill  said, 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  CITY  LIFE.  205 

"  Now  look  here,  my  cove  :  you  don't  want  me  to  play 
a  lively  tattoo  on  your  skull,  do  you?" 

"  But,  sir,"  expostulated  Volney,  ceasing  his  efforts  to 
release  himself,  "  why  do  you  seize  me  in  this  way? 
What  have  1  done?  I  am  no  thief.  I  know  this 
valise  is  not  mine.  I  am  taking  care  of  it  for  the  own 
er,  and  was  going  in  search  of  him  when  you  stopped 
me." 

"  Oh  yes,  I've  heard  that  story  afore !  It's  first  rate, 
I  know ;  but  then,  you  see,  it's  no  go  with  me.  So  come 
along !" 

Tightening  his  hold,  he  pulled  his  half-resisting  pris 
oner  around  the  corner  of  the  depot  into  the  full  light  of 
the  lamps  that  hung  from  the  high-vaulted  porch. 

"Will  you  listen  one  moment  to  me?"  pleaded  Volney 
in  a  tone  so  earnest  and  with  a  face  so  honest  that  the 
other  paused  in  spite  of  himself;  "  I  am  sure  you  will 
believe  me  when  I  tell  you  my  story." 

"  Well,  tell  your  story.  Cut  it  short,  and  take  care 
you  don't  criminate  yourself.  What  you  say  to  me  is 
evidence  agin  you  in  court." 

He  shook  his  skeptical  face  with  a  warning  gesture. 
The  young  man  narrated  his  experience  in  so  straightfor 
ward  a  manner  that  the  policeman's  countenance  gradually 
relaxed  as  he  listened;  and  when  he  heard  of  the  farmer 
and  the  bill  and  the  money,  he  clapped  his  hands  upon 
his  knees  and  broke  out  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  which 
was  as  inexplicable  to  Volney  as  was  his  former  conduct. 

"  Fresh  from  the  country  !  Taken  in  and  done  for  !" 
he  at  last  managed  to  ejaculate  between  his  peals  of  laugh 
ter,  wiping  the  tears  from  his  face  and  looking  down  on 
his  companion  with  a  mingled  expression  of  curiosity  and 
pity. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  the  young  man,  his  face 
perplexed  and  astonished  by  turns. 

"  Of  course  not !"  laughed  the  other,  holding  on  to  his 
fat  sides;  "but  when  you  see  that  forty-five  dollars  you 
will  be  older  than  I  am,  and  twice  as  gray.  Why,  boy, 
can't  you  see  through  it  yet?  You've  been  robbed,  beat 
out  of  your  money,  swindled,  bamboozled,  laid  out  colder 
than  1;  st  winter's  ice !  I  am  sorry  for  you ;  but  the  more 

18 


206  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

you  learn  now,  the  less  you've  got  to  learn  when  you  get 
older." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,"  gasped  Volney,  his  face 
growing  pale  and  his  voice  unsteady,  "  that  the  farmer 
was  a  cheat — that  he  has  deceived  and  robbed  me?  It 
cannot  be!  Why,  here  is  his  valise,  which  he  has  left 
with  me." 

"Of  course,  and  nothing  in  it,"  said  the  policeman, 
taking  hold  of  it  and  weighing  and  turning  it  with  a  crit 
ical  eye.  "That's  part  of  the  game.  I'll  bet  a  month's 
pay  there's  nothing  but  kindling-wood  and  paper  in  that, 
valise." 

So  saving,  he  took  a  bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket, 
and  opening  the  valise  held  it  upside  down.  Out  from 
it  fell  at  the  feet  of  the  astonished  young  man  several 
sticks  of  wood  and  half  a  dozen  newspapers  rolled  up  in 
a  bunch.  For  several  moments  Volney  stood  white, 
trembling  and  speechless.  Then,  looking  up  into  his 
companion's  face  with  an  expression  of  woe  that  made 
Sandy  Grill's  heart  soften  toward  him,  he  said,  with  a 
quivering  voice, 

"  It  was  every  dollar  I  had — yes,  every  cent !  What 
am  I  to  do?  Where  shall  I  go  ?  I  am  a  stranger  here  : 
I  don't  know  a  soul  in  all  this  great  citv." 

"Now,  you  don't  tell  me  you  was  green  enough  to  give 
that  fellow  every  cent  you  had,  do  you?"  asked  the  police 
man,  his  expression  of  sympathy  taking  on  for  the  mo 
ment  a  touch  of  contempt.  "  You  look  as  if  you  ought 
to  have  more  .sense.  They  don't  carry  their  eggs  all  in 
one  basket  up  your  way,  do  they?" 

"It  was  every  bit  of  money  I  had,"  replied  the  other 
with  a  sad  shake  of  his  head  as  he  took  out  his  wallet  and 
looked  through  it  in  vain  for  any  piece  of  money,  how 
ever  small.  "You  are  right,  sir,  in  blaming  me.  What 
a  fool  I  was  not  to  have  suspected  him!  But  he  looked 
so  honest  and  gave  me  such  good  advice  that  I  couldn't 
help  believing  in  him." 

"Gave  you  good  advice,  eh  ?"  and  Sandy  Grill's  broad 
face  broke  out  into  a  smile  of  comical  derision.  "  So  does 
the  devil  give  good  advice  when  he  knows  he's  got  a  fel 
low  sure.  Well,  there's  no  use  of  making  you  feel  any 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  CITY  LIFE.  207 

worse  about  it.  Your  money's  gone,  dead  sure,  but  you've 
got  your  spunk  left,  I  hope.  But  this  is  a  bad  go.  No 
money  and  no  friends  !  What  are  you  going  to  do?  It's 
easy  enough  to  go  without  your  supper,  but  you  can't 
walk  the  streets  all  night,  and  it's  too  cold  to  sleep  out 
on  the  soft  side  of  a  plank  or  the  feather  end  of  a  cellar- 
door." 

"  Oh,  if  you  could  only  help  me  in  some  way !"  said 
Volney,  imploringly,  turning  his  deeply-troubled  face  full 
upon  the  other.  "  Js  there,  then,  no  place  where  I  could 
go  and  get  trusted  for  a  night's  lodging  ?  See!"  pull 
ing  out  a  small  silver  watch ;  '^J  could  give  this  as 
security  ."• 

"  Put  up  your  watch  and  come  along  with  me,"  said 
the  policeman,  a  trifle  kindly,  after  closely  eying  his  com 
panion.  "Got  any  baggage  with  you?" 

"  Yes,  a  valise.     Here  is  the  check,"  producing  it. 

"Good  thing  you  didn't  lose  that,  and  your  watch  too. 
It  shows  you've  some  luck  left,  though  I  wouldn't  advise 
you  to  play  policy  on  it.  Well,  come  along,"  picking  up  the 
farmer's  bag  and  putting  back  into  it  the  wood  and  paper. 
"  Let's  get  your  baggage  and  go  over  to  the  station-house. 
If  we  can't  do  any  better,  you  can  bunk  there  to-night. 
But  the  first  thing  you  must  do  is  to  write  home  this  very 
night  for  money.  You  can't  get  along  without  money, 
that's  certain  ;  might  as  well  try  to  raise  crops  in  fields 
of  stone.  Yes,  money's  your  best  friend.  Without  it 
you'll  have  no  friends ;  with  it,  more  friends  than  you'll 
want," 

So  saying,  he  led  the  way  to  the  baggage-room,  where 
Volney  joyfully  caught  sight  of  his  valise,  and  took  it  in 
his  hand  with  a  tightened  grasp,  as  if  it  too  might  dis 
appear  from  his  hold  in  some  mysterious  way. 

"  Now,  if  you  had  only  held  on  to  your  money  as  tight 
as  that,"  said  Sandy  Grill,  noticing,  as  they  walked  along 
the  street,  how  closely  the  young  man  was  carrying  the 
valise  in  front  of  him,  "your  money  would  have  been  safe 
enough.  But  I  guess  the  folks  up  your  way  lock  the 
door  after  the  horse  is  stolen?" 

"  Make  fun  of  me  as  much  as  you  choose ;  I  deserve 
all  you  can  say.  I  never  would  have  believed  that  I  could 


208  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

be  so  easily  deceived.  It  will  be  a  good  le-son  to  me,  but 
it's  a  very  hard  one  to  bear  just  now.  The  thought  of 
being  without  a  penny  in  a  great  city  like  this  fills  me 
with  a  dread  and  loneliness  you  can  little  imagine." 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  left  the  farm  and  came  to  the 
city  for,  any  way,"  said  Grill  with  an  impatient  fling  of 
his  hand.  "You  said  a  while  ago  that  you  were  going  to 
learn  to  be  a  machinist.  Better  have  stuck  to  your  farm. 
A  farmer's  life  is  a  happy  one;  and  well  paid,  too,  with 
egu's  fiftv  cents  a  dozen  and  butter  so  Jjigh  a  poor  man  can 
only  smell  it.  There  are  too  many  machinists  here  now. 
Wages  are  down  to  starvation-point ;  half  the  foundries 
and  shops  are  closed,  and  Heaven  only  knows  when  the 
times  will  be  good  enough  for  them  to  open  again.  Take 
my  advice,  and  get  home  as  fast  as  you  can.  If  you  can 
learn  how  to  raise  cheap  potatoes,  butter  and  egu's,  you'll 
do  more  good  in  your  lifetime  than  if  you  were  to  be  the 
best  machinist  living.  Besides,  if  you  do  get  work  here, 
you  will  only  be  crowding  out  some  poor  devil  who  wants 
it  more  than  you  do.  But  you  don't  look  to  me  to  be  a 
fellow  as  would  take  the  food  out  of  other  men's  mouths 
who've  got  wives  and  children  to  feed." 

"Yon  are  right,"  said  Volney,  eagerly  catching  at  this 
last  compliment.  "I  would  never  take  any  man's  place 
from  him,  much  less  the  food  from  his  family.  I  would 
starve  before  I  would  do  it.  I  came  to  the  city  to  get  no 
one's  situation.  The  place  I  am  after  is  not  filled  yet. 
There  is  nothing  wrong  or  selfish  in  my  trying  to  make  a 
living,  is  there  ?'' 

"  Where  is  the  situation  ?''  was  the  gruif  query ;  for 
Sandy  Grill  had  worked  himself  into  an  ill-humor  over 
this  last  invasion  of  the  city  workingman's  territory.  "It 
can't  be  worth  much,  to  be  standing  open  these  hard  times, 
when  skilled  mechanics  are  working  for  a  dollar  a  day." 

"It's  with  a  Mr.  William  Marsh,  of  Manayunk,"  re 
plied  Volnev,  hesitatingly.  "He  advertises  for  a  voung 
man  to  learn  the  care  of  machinery  in  his  cotton-mill." 

"Oh,  does  he?  The  old  fraud  !"  was  the  malicious  re 
joinder  as  the  policeman  threw  his  head  hack  with  a  jerk. 
"  It's  a  wonder  he  didn't  advertise  for  a  girl  to  run  his 
old  machinery  at  two  dollars  a  week." 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  CITY  LIFE.  209 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"I  should  say  I  did  know  him,  the  old  cast-iron  soul !" 
was  the  emphatic  response.  "  My  brother-in-law  has 
worked  for  him  these  last  three  years.  lie  says  a  meaner 
white  man  you  couldn't  find,  unless  you  got  one  made  to 
order  out  of  a  hog's  body  with  a  miser's  soul  in  it.  Red- 
die  Stitt  knows  what  he  is  talking  about.  He's  got  a  head 
on  him  as  level  and  true  as  the  best  piece  of  shafting 
running/' 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  Mr.  Marsh  is  a  mean  man/' 
said  Volney  after  a  pause,  during  which  the  policeman 
had  sti'ided  on  a  pace  or  two  in  advance,  muttering  and 
shaking  his  head  with  angry  gestures.  "  Perhaps  it's  the 
hard  times  you  talk  about  that  make  him  close." 

"  Close  ?"  almost  roared  Sandy  Grill,  wheeling  around 
and  looking  down  on  Volney  with  his  eyes  aflame.  "Is 
that  all  you  call  it  when  a  man  treats  his  hands  like  brutes, 
and  cuts  down  their  wages  till  they  can't  get  decent  food 
for  their  mouths  or  a  dry  roof  over  their  heads  ?  You'd 
better  pawn  that  watch  and  buy  a  dictionary,  and  learn 
what  words  mean.  Up  your  way,  I  take  it,  they  must 
call  turnips  and  water  a  good  square  meal  for  a  laboring- 
man,  and  a  haystack  a  nice  warm  bed  on  a  rainy  night." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  if  I  have  offended  you ;  I  certainly 
did  not  mean  to  do  so,"  replied  the  young  man,  endeavor 
ing  to  appease  the  other's  anger.  "  I  am  sure  you  know 
more  about  these  things  than  I  do,  and  I  am  thankful  to 
you  for  telling  me  of  them." 

"Are  you?  Then  I  will  tell  you  more,"  a  perceptible 
sneer  lingering  in  his  voice.  .  "If  you  are  a  friend  to  the 
workingman,  just  you  keep  away  from  old  Marsh's  fac 
tory.  There's  been  a  strike  up  there  against  his  starvation 
wages,  and  he's  trying  now  to  get  men  who  will  work  for 
almost  nothing.  But  the  boys  have  got  him  tight  if  men 
like  you  will  only  stay  away  and  let  them  fight  it  out  with 
him.  Hang  him  !  If  he  can't  get  new  hands,  he's  got 
to  keep  the  old  ones.  That's  what  Reddie  Stitt  says,  and 
he's  boss  machinist  up  there  and  knows  just  how  things 
stands.  And  Jet  me  tell  you  something  more,"  lowering 
his  voice  to  a  whisper  that  had  as  much  of  a  threat  in  it 
as  the  words  he  spoke  :  "if  you  do  go  there,  you'll  be 

0 


210  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

under  Reddie,  and  won't  he  make  it  hot  for  you  !  Yes, 
indeed  !  He'll  make  you  dance  around  worse  than  a  horse 
with  a  nest  of  bumblebees  between  his  legs.  Reddie  Stitt 
knows  how  to  take  care  of  his  rights.  If  you  want  him 
to  show  you  how  to  take  care  of  machinery,  he'll  do  it  so 
i'ast  that  you'll  wish,  before  the  first  day's  over,  that  you 
was  digging  a  hundred  bushels  of  potatoes  a  day  for  a 
living ;"  and  Sandy  Grill  chuckled  and  laughed,  and 
his  head  rolled  from  side  to  side  with  a  very  knowing 
air. 

By  this  time  they  had  come  in  front  of  a  small  brick 
building,  from  the  large  window  of  which  streamed  a  glare 
of  light.  Looking  in,  Volney  saw  a  room  in  which  an 
excited  crowd  of  men  and  women,  with  here  and  there  a 
policeman,  crowded  around  a  raised  desk,  behind  which 
sat  a  man  who  was  vigorously  shaking  his  hand  in  token 
of  silence. 

"  Hearing  a  case.  Street-fight,  I  guess.  Somebody's 
hair  gone  and  eyes  in  mourning,"  said  Grill,  opening  the 
door  and  beckoning  his  companion  to  follow.  "This 
way,"  leading  him  past  the  crowd  into  a  small  side  room. 
"  You  stay  here  while  I  report  your  case  to  the  lieutenant. 
After  a  while  he  will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you." 

So  saying,  he  pushed  a  chair  toward  the  young  man  and 
went  out,  closing  the  door. 

Left  alone,  Volney  Slade  found  his  thoughts  wholly 
occupied  for  the  moment  by  the  peculiar  strangeness  of 
his  situation,  so  contrary  to  all  the  buoyant  hopes  with 
which  he  had  left  his  home.  Here  he  was  in  a  station- 
house — a  place  his  mind  had  always  associated  with  crimes 
and  criminals  of  the  worst  sort;  and  now  came  the  thought 
of  his  utter  helplessness,  for  cool  reflection  had  so  deserted 
him  that  he  was  a  prey  to  every  fear.  In  a  station-house, 
without  money  and  without  friends !  Perhaps  a  lodger 
to-night  under  the  same  roof  that  covered  thieves,  assassins 
and  drunkards !  The  very  air  seemed  laden  with  crime, 
and  grew  stifling  and  oppressive.  He  looked  about  him 
in  dismay,  the  perspiration  trickling  from  every  pore.  A 
deathly  sickness  came  slowly  over  him.  IJe  dropped  his 
valise  upon  the  floor  and  sank  into  a  chair,  pressing  his 
cold  hands  upon  his  throbbing  head. 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  CITY  LIFE.  211 

As  if  to  make  the  reality  of  his  position  all  the  more 
terrible  to  his  distorted  and  morbid  fancy,  which  had  fully 
gotten  the  better  of  him,  the  uproar  in  the  adjoining  room 
increased.  Scuffling  and  oaths  and  the  angry  voices  of 
men  mingled  with  the  shrieks  of  women  filled  his  ears 
with  terror  and  made  his  heart  quake  with  a  fear  he  could 
not  control.  He  would  have  leaped  through  the  window 
and  ran  he  knew  not  where,  so  that  he  could  shut  out  these 
awful  sounds,  but  he  was  so  weak  he  could  not  rise,  and 
fell  back  in  his  chair  trembling  in  every  limb.  For 
tunately,  the  tumult  began  to  subside.  His  courage  re 
vived  a  little.  He  listened,  and  heard  the  voices  grow 
more  stiffed,  the  shrieks  fainter  and  fainter,  and  the 
scuffling  less  distinct,  as  if  the  prisoners  were  being  taken 
to  some  distant  part  of  the  building.  And  now  the  air 
was  freighted  with  less  disturbing  sounds.  The  subdued 
talking  and  the  muffled  tread  of  the  crowd  in  the  next 
room  told  him,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  that  it  was  evidently 
dispersing. 

More  composed  now,  he  turned  his  thoughts  upon  him 
self.  Of  what  avail  were  they  to  soothe  the  mortification 
of  his  present  position?  For  that  was  the  feeling  which 
took  possession  of  him  and  magnified  with  wonderful 
po\ver  the  failures  of  the  day — his  quarrel  with  Emily, 
the  loss  of  his  money,  the  tauntings  of  the  policeman  and 
his  unfavorable  description  of  Mr.  Marsh,  and  the  pros 
pect  of  sleeping  in  this  station-house  like  the  commonest 
refugee  of  want.  These  all  crowded  upon  his  sensitive  spirit, 
until,  no  longer  able  to  command  himself,  he  bowed  his 
head  upon  his  hands  and  sought  relief  in  tears.  A  soothing 
balm  to  his  wounded  heart  were  these  tears,  slowly  calm 
ing  his  excited  feelings.  And  as  the  dew  woos  the  droop 
ing  flowers  to  life  again,  so  did  these  tears,  by  some  mys 
terious  law,  lift  up  his  fainting  hopes  and  send  a  gentle 
glow  of  peace  through  all  his  soul.  With  a  little  hysteri 
cal  laugh,  as  if  he  were  reproaching  himself  for  being  thus 
unmanned,  he  quickly  raised  his  head.  Thrusting  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  he  took  out  his  handkerchief  to 
speedily  wipe  away  all  traces  of  his  weeping  before  the 
return  of  the  policeman. 

As    he    pulled  out  the  handkerchief  an  envelope  fell 


212  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

from  its  folds  at  his  feet.  AVith  a  murmured  exclamation 
of  wonder  he  picked  it  up,  and  found  to  his  surprise  that 
it  was  directed  to  himself.  He  opened  it.  As  he  did  so 
a  roll  of  bills  dropped  into  his  hand.  For  an  instant  lit 
sat  bewildered.  Then,  as  he  recognized  the  handwriting, 
he  clutched  the  money  with  a  little  cry  of  joy,  hastened 
across  the  room  and  read,  with  a  voice  that  trembled  and 
whispered  by  turns,  the  following  letter  : 

"DEAR  VOLNEY  :  Do  not  lie  angry  with  me  for  doing  this.  I  want 
ed  to  give  you  something  to  remember  me  by.  I  liavr  Uvn  saving  this 
money  for  you.  I  knew  you  would  not  take  it  ii'  1  gave  it  to  you  willi 
my  own  hands,  so  I  put  it  in  this  letter,  which  I  intend  to  slip  in  your 
pocket  when  you  say  good-live  to  me  this  morning.  Please  do  not  re 
fuse  to  take  it  for  my  sake.  It  will  make  me  so  happy  to  know  it  is 
helping  you.  I  must  write  you  what  I  could  not  say  to  you,  for  fear  1 
should  cry  and  spoil  it  all.  Volney,  your  nurse  loves  you  so  much. 
This  money  is  only  a  feeble  offering  of  her  aflirtion.  Do  let  me  love 
you  now,  Yolney,  just  the  same  as  when  you  were  a  little  hoy.  I  do 
hope  you  will  succeed  in  the  city.  I  know  you  will,  for  you  are  so  good 
and  noble  and  true.  I  shall  pray  night  and  morning  and  all  the  day 
for  God  to  protect  and  befriend  you  and  keep  you  from  all  barm. 
Good-bye,  and  success  to  you  is  the  warm  wish  of  your  loving  nurse. 

"A/IKL   LOYD." 

"Dear,  good,  kind  Aziel !"  was  all  the  young  man 
could  say,  for  the  tears  were  falling  fast  upon  the  letter 
as  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  his  heart  swelling  with  fervent 
gratitude,  his  eyes  glistening  with  unspeakable  joy. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

FURTHER  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  WILLIAM  DIBBS. 

BILL  DIBBS  was  alone  this  morning  in  the  bar-room 
of  the  Green  Tree  Inn.  He  stood  behind  the  coun 
ter,  and,  with  both  arms  leaning  upon  it,  was  writing  a 
letter,  while  Spike  eyed  him  suspiciously  from  his  cage 
above.  Dibbs'  appearance  was  a  comical  one,  and  seemed 
to  afford  much  amusement  to  himself.  He  stopped  his 
writing  several  times,  and  turning  around  surveyed  him 
self  in  the  glass  with  a  laugh.  But  the  laugh  after  all 
was  a  sickly  one — a  dry,  emotionless  laugh.  It  showed 


FURTHER   CHARACTERISTICS  OF  DIBBS.        2i'3 

that,  notwithstanding  this  show  of  humor,  lie  did  not  con 
sider  himself  a  legitimate  object  of  merriment.  The  fact 
was,  Dibbs  was  now  paying  in  a  bloodshot  and  black  eye 
the  penalty  of  his  adventure  the  night  before  with  Patrick 
Doyle.  Although  he  had  slept  with  a  piece  of  raw  beef 
bound  over  his  eye  all  night — a  cure  he  had  read  of  in  a 
.sporting  paper — it  was  as  black  and  blue  and  red  this 
morning  as  the  aforesaid  Doyle  could  have  wished  to 
see  it. 

"  What's  the  odds,  so  long  as  your  happy  ?"  he  said, 
winking  with  his  uninjured  eye  at  his  distorted  image  in 
the  broken  mirror  and  turning  again  to  his  writing.  "  I 
am  not  the  first  fellow  who  has  run  against  a  post  or  a 
door  or  had  the  street  fly  up  and  hit  him  in  the  face. 
Accidents  will  happen  despite  the  greatest  care.  But  to 
think  that  gentle  female,  Mrs.  Boozer,  should  accuse  me 
of  having  been  in  a  fight !  Me  !  Bill  Dibbs  !  With  a 
disposition  so  mild  and  inoffensive  that  if  a  man  were 
to  kick  me  I  would  take  off  my  hat  and  apologize  to  him 
for  my  want  of  appreciation  !  Ah,  Mrs.  Boozer  !  a  noble 
soul  cares  not  for  the  calumnies  of  enemies,  but  it's  hard 
indeed  to  be  misjudged  by  one's  friends.  Yet  I  forgive 
you.  Yes,  partner  of  that  bosom  which  now  reclines  va 
cant  and  at  peaceful  rest  in  yonder  cemetery,  I  harbor  no 
resentment  for  your  unkind  accusation.  Being  a  woman, 
Mrs.  Boozer,  you  could  not  help  it.  The  female  heart  is 
always  suspicious,  tender  though  it  be,  lovely  woman — 
tender  though  it  be  !" 

Having  thus  relieved  himself,  his  melancholy  face  re 
sumed  again  the  keen,  cunning  smile  with  which  he  had 
been  writing  his  letter,  and  which  he  now  finished,  sign 
ing  his  name  with  a  flourish  that  he  held  out  at  arm's 
length  to  admire,  clapping  his  hand  over  his  black  eye  to 
shield  it  from  the  bright  light  of  the  room,  which  was  be 
coming  exceedingly  painful  to  it. 

"  Now,  that's  what  I  call  a  signature  that  has  character 
in  it!  None  of  your  small,  screwed-up  letters,  as  if  a 
fellow  were  ashamed  of  his  name,  but  a  bold,  dashing 
hand — a  regular  John-Hancock  flourish.  Now  for 
punctuation  and  spelling,"  he  continued,  going  criti 
cally  over  his  production.  "  Mistakes  in  letters  are 


AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

like  mistakes  in  a  man's  accounts — no  excuse  for  them." 
If  one  could  have  looked  unobserved  over  Dibbs'  shoulder 
while  lie  was  thus  engaged  in  admiring  his  epistle,  he 
might  have  read  this  important  letter,  which  had  cost  the 
writer  an  hour's  literary  effort  and  many  references  to  his 
dictionary  and  Thesaurus.  It  had  been  written  in  answer 
to  one  he  had  recently  received,  marked,  in  red  ink,  "  Very 
confidential,"  and  proposing  the  sale  of  counterfeit  money. 
His  reply  was  as  follows  : 

"SLOWVILLE,  Penna.,  November  17,  1877. 

"  MESSRS.  GUNBRIDGE  &  Co.,  New  York  City,  Gentlemen:  I  beg  to 
acknowledge  the  very  favorable  reception  of  your  highly-important 
letter.  I  assure  you  the  weighty  considerations  yon  advance  for  my 
compliance  with  your  suggestions  have  influenced  me  in  an  affirmative 
manner.  Your  very  complimentary  opinion  of  my  executive  ability  in 
the  transaction  which  you  propose  to  submit  to  my  fiduciary  care  I  hope 
will  be  more  than  substantiated  by  subsequent  communications  between 
my  humble  self  and  the  progressive  establishment  of  which  your  epis 
tolary  document  is  a  brilliant  reflex. 

"  Even  to  one  of  my  inexperienced  powers  of  ratiocination,  the  propo 
sition  you  advance,  of  the  desirability  of  a  cheaper  circulating  medium 
than  that  which  the  paternal  government  of  the  United  States  so  grudg 
ingly  distributes  among  its  citizens,  meets  my  warmest  approval  and  ex 
cites  my  highest  admiration  of  your  financial  genius. 

"You  will  please  expedite  by  express  to  the  cognomen  and  subjoined 
address  the  sum  of  one  hundred  dollars  of  your  approved  currency  in 
diminutive  bills  suited  to  the  exigences  of  a  pastoral  life.  I  will  use 
ardent  exertions  to  distribute  your  consignment  among  the  verdant  popu 
lation  of  this  community;  and  in  case  of  complete  success — of  which  I 
am  most  sanguine — I  will  remit  you  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  profit,  and 
await  your  further  consignments. 

"  Of  my  immutable  secrecy  you  have  the  pledge  of  our  mutual  inter 
ests — more  powerful,  you  will  acknowledge,  than  any  paltry  considera 
tion  of  safety,  or  the  base  fear  of  detection. 

"  I  remain,  dear  sirs,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  WILLIAM  DIBBS, 
"Care  of  Green  Tree  Inn,  Slowville,  Penna. 

"P.  S. — If  you  have  a  one-hundred-dollar  bill  of  plausible  appear 
ance,  you  might  forward  the  same.  I  opine  I  could  deftly  manipulate 
it  into  the  possession  of  some  rural  individual.  "\V.  D. 

"  P.  S. — Secondly.  Allow  me  to  add  that  it  would  be  a  waste  of  your 
valuable  time  to  forward  me  any  package  containing  sawdust  and 
marked  C.  O.  D.  For  while  sawdust  is  valuable  for  stuffing  dolls,  fill 
ing  spittoons  and  covering  slippery  sidewalks,  your  humble  servant  is 
not  desirous  of  entering  either  into  the  purchase  or  possession  of  such 
a  commodity.  Verb.  sap. ;  which,  being  literally  translated,  means, 
Don't  fish  for  a  whale  with  a  pin-hook.  W.  D." 

"  And  now,"  said  Dibbs,  after  he  had  sealed  and  directed 
this  letter,  taking  from  his  pocket  a  clean  white  handker- 


FURTHER   CHARACTERISTICS  OF  DIBBS.        215 

chief,  which  he  rolled  into  a  long  strip  and  began  to  tie 
over  his  eye,  "I  shall  put  this  damaged  optic  into  seclusion 
for  the  rest  of  the  day.  It  is  in  mourning,  and  therefore 
ought  to  retire  from  the  public  gaze.  Besides,  it  is  no  more 
than  charitable  that  I  should  thus  relieve  any  curious  and 
anxious  sorrow  the  people  of  Slowville  might  have  in  re 
gard  to  my  recent  accident." 

With  his  eye  thus  covered  and  his  hat  pulled  far  down 
on  that  side,  he  ran  across  the  street  to  the  post-office.  He 
deposited  his  letter  in  the  mail,  which  was  just  leaving, 
and  came  back  to  the  bar-room  to  find  Rader  Craft  im 
patiently  awaiting  him. 

"  Why,  Dibbs,  my  dear  young  friend,  good-morning !" 
he  said,  seizing  him  cordially  by  the  hand.  "  You  cannot 
tell  how  anxious  I  am  to  see  you.  I  sat  up  last  night  till 
after  midnight,  waiting  to  hear  from  you  according  to 
promise.  Why,"  for  the  first  time  seeing  the  bandage  as 
Dibbs  jerked  off  his  hat  and  deftly  threw  it  upon  its  peg 
behind  the  bar,  "  what's  the  matter  ?  Have  you  been  in 
jured?" 

"  Injured!"  replied  Dibbs  in  a  hollow  voice  as  he  slowly 
raised  the  bandage  to  his  forehead,  and  then  stood  with 
folded  arms,  looking  with  a  grave  face  at  the  lawyer. 
"  Thou  hast  spoken  well,  disciple  of  Blackstone !  It  is 
indeed  injured.  I  might  add  bruised,  wounded,  mutilated, 
stained,  soiled,  tarnished,  dilapidated,  devastated — yea, 
verily,  desolated." 

"  How  did  it  happen?  I  hope  your  adventure  last  night 
involved  you  in  no  serious  trouble?"  said  the  lawyer  with 
his  bland,  conciliatory  smile;  "I  should  be  sincerely  grieved 
if  it  did — on  my  account." 

"  Mr.  Craft " — and  the  seriousness  of  Dibbs'  mannerv 
increased — "  how  much  do  you  consider  the  commercial 
value  of  a  damaged  eye?     For  what  consideration  would 
you  be  willing  to  accept  a  visual  orb  so  highly  decorated 
as  this  ?" 

"  I  certainly  should  object  to  it  on  any  terms  of  my  own 
choosing.  Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"Because,  before  proceeding  to  the  narration  of  last 
night's  events,  I  wish  not  only  to  settle  the  claim  of 
damages  which  I  have  against  you  in  this  case,  but 


216  AS  IT  3LIY  HAPPEN. 

to   have    them   paid    promptly,    cheerfully    and    without 
cavil." 

"  I  will  gladly  render  any  compensation  in  my  power, 
if  I  am  to  blame  for  this  calamity.  But  how  am  I  to 
judge  of  my  liability  unless  I  am  told  the  circumstances 
of  the  case  ?" 

"This  eye,"  replied  Dibbs  with  deliberation,  slowly 
pointing  at  the  damaged  member,  "was  maltreated  thus  in 
your  service.  Its  discoloration  indicates  only  too  vividly 
how  it  came  in  unfriendly  contact  with  the  heavy  bunch 
of  fives  in  possession  of  that  Hibernian,  Patrick  Doyle, 
who  appeared  to  me  unannounced  while  I  was  last  night 
making  my  tour  of  investigation  in  your  behalf  around 
Silas  Gagger's  farm-house.  Yes,  sir,  the  adamantine  fist 
of  Patrick  Doyle  was  thrust  against  my  innocent  head 
with  a  force  that  disclosed  to  me  for  an  instant  all  the 
starry  orbs  of  heaven.  It  was  a  blow,  sir,  that  opened  up 
to  my  vision  indefinite  space.  No  astronomer  ever  saw  so 
many  stars  at  once,  and  they  were  as  brilliant  as  they  were 
innumerable." 

"Then  you  did  not  get  into  the  house? — were  driven 
away,  I  suppose,  before  you  had  any  chance  to  see  what 
was  going  on  ?"  and  the  smile  on  the  lawyer's  face  gave 
M'av  to  disappointment.  "I  was  afraid  you  were  under 
taking  more  than  you  could  do — " 

"  Were  you,  indeed?"  interrupted  Dibbs  in  a  bantering 
tone  as  he  pulled  down  the  bandage  and  went  behind  the 
bar.  "Then  I  suppose  you  will  not  be  at  all  disappointed 
if  you  should  hear  no  more  of  my  story  ?  So  be  it,  then. 
I  will  take  a  black  eye  for  my  portion  of  last  night's  work, 
and  you  can  have  your  ignorance  of  it  to  keep  company 
with  your  fear  of  mv  abilities  to  perform  what  I  under 
took." 

Then,  with  a  satisfied  shake  of  his  head,  Dibbs  turned 
his  back  upon  his  companion  and  began  to  wipe  off  the 
bottles  and  shelves,  and  otherwise  put  the  bar  in  order  for 
the  day. 

"  Nothing  like  cleanliness  to  give  zest  to  thirst  or 
hunger,"  he  soliloquized,  breathing  upon  the  gilt  labels 
and  giving  them  a  brighter  polish. 

"Dibbs,  my  dear    boy,  I    hope    I    have  not    offended 


FURTHER   CHARACTERISTICS   OF  VIBES.        217 

you?"  said  the  lawyer,  leaning  across  the  counter  and 
touching  him  upon  the  shoulder.  "You  did  not  under 
stand  me.  I  meant  that  I  was  anxious  about  your  suc 
cess,  not  fearful  of  your  failure.  Don't  you  see  the 
difference  ?" 

"Oh  yes — a  difference  without  a  distinction;"  and 
Dibbs,  without  turning  around,  went  on  vigorously  pol 
ishing  the  bottles.  "lam  sorry,  though,  I  cannot  give 
you  back  that  important  letter  you  committed  to  my 
care,"  looking  askance  over  his  shoulder  with  an  expres 
sion  half  serious  and  half  comic. 

"I  hope  you  did  not  lose  that?"  said  the  lawyer,  his 
face  more" dubious  still,  for  Dibbs'  manner  was  perplexing 
him  not  a  little. 

"That  letter  was  placed  where  it  will  do  the  most 
good,  or  I  am  no  judge  of  the  female  face  divine,"  care 
lessly  replied  Dibbs,  examining  his  stock  of  sugar  and 
lemons  and  proceeding  to  put  fresh  water  into  the  kettle 
that  stood  over  the  spirit-lamp. 

The  lawyer's  countenance  lighted  up  with  an  eager 
smile,  which  he  tried  to  conceal  by  rubbing  his  hands 
over  his  face  as  Dibbs  suddenly  looked  up  at  him.  He 
saw  by  Dibbs'  expression  that  he  was  concealing  some 
important  information,  but  just  how  to  get  at  it  without 
diverting  Dibbs'  suspicions  to  himself  Craft  was  at  a  loss. 
Dibbs  fortunately  came  to  his  relief.  Planting  himself 
firmly  behind  the  counter,  that  individual  leaned  his 
elbows  upon  it,  and  gazing  steadily  into  the  lawyer's  face 
said,  as  he  shook  his  finger  slowly  and  with  a  knowing 
gesture  which  was  reflected  in  the  twinkle  of  hi.s  eyes, 

"  Mr.  Craft,  I  have  much  to  tell  you  about  the  recep 
tion  of  that  letter  by  the  object  of  our  mutual  admiration, 
Miss  A/icl  Loyd.  '  Oh  what  an  expressive  face  she  has! 
Every  feature  of  it  speaks  with  the  voice  of  an  angel ! 
But  first  you  must  pav  me  damages  for  this  eye,  or  these 
lips,  like  those  of  the  Sphynx  of  the  desert,  shall  remain 
for  ever  sealed." 

"Plow  much  do  you  want  for  your  damaged  eye?" 
asked  the  lawyer,  quickly  taking  out  his  pocket-book  and 
with  difficulty  restraining  his  impatience. 

"  Twenty-five   dollars.      That    will    be    five    for   each 

19 


218  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPKX. 

color — black,  green,  blue,  red  and  yellow.  A  very 
cheap  painting,  executed  in  body-colors  by  our  Milesian 
artist." 

"  There's  your  money,  but  it  seems  to  me  a  very  exor 
bitant  sum  for  you  to  ask  ;"  and  Craft  handed  it  to  him 
with  a  grudging  expression. 

"  The  prices  of  eyes  differ  according  to  quality,"  laughed 
the  other,  stowing  the  money  away  in  his  pocket.  "  Glass 
eyes  are  cheap,  blind  eyes  worthless,  but  the  eyes  of 
\Villiam  Dibbs  have  just  now  a  market  value  not  readily 
estimated.  Besides,  Mr.  Craft,  with  this  twenty-five  dol 
lars  you  are  paying  me  for  both  the  direct  and  consequen 
tial  damages  to  this  eye.  In  other  words,  this  eye  is  not 
onlv  painful  and  hideous,  but  it  has  cost  me  my  discharge. 
Mrs.  Boozer,  on  seeing  this  mournful  orb  this  morning, 
notified  me,  in  the  strong  and  unmistakable  language  for 
which  that  lady  is  well  known  in  this  community,  that 
after  to-day  she  would  clear  me  out  of  the  place — that 
she  did  not  want  any  ruffian  about  her." 

"  I  am  sorry  this  has  happened  ;  but  you  just  keep  quiet 
and  attend  to  your  work.  I  will  see  Mrs.  Boozer  and  get 
her  to  retract  her  sentence  of  discharge." 

"  Xo,  sir,  I  thank  you.  The  fiat  has  gone  forth  :  let  it  so 
remain.  William  Dibbs  is  able  to  take  care  of  himself. 
To-night  Mrs.  Boozer  and  I  sever  our  commercial  rela 
tions  ;  and  ere  many  days  your  humble  servant  will  be 
testing  the  ability  of  the  world  to  give  him  an  independ 
ent  living.  But  to  return  to  a  topic  more  interesting  to 
you.  You  wish  to  hear  about  that  letter?" 

"Yes  ;  for  it  very  seriously  affects  the  cause  of  a  client 
of  mine.  You  say  you  gave  it  to  her?  Saw  her  read  it? 
Noticed  her  manner  in  every  particular  ?"  and  as  Dibbs 
nodded  emphatic  assent  to  these  questions,  "  What  con 
clusions  did  you  draw  from  her  conduct  ?" 

"  That  she  is  in  love — deeper  than  Venus  when  she 
sinks  beneath  the  cerulean  waves,"  answered  Dibbs  in  a 
confidential  whisper. 

"  In  love  ?  What  made  you  think  that  ?"  Craft  tried 
to  force  to  his  face  an  incredulous  smile,  though  his. great 
heart  begun  to  swell  with  a  smothered  joy. 

"  When  a  woman  reads  a  letter  over  three  times,  anc1 


FURTHER   CHARACTERISTICS  OF  DIBBS.        219 

Mushes  red  as  a  rose  and   turns  pale  as  a  lily,  and  sighs 
and   trembles,  I  should  say  that  something  in  the  letter 
had  touched  her  heart — deeply  though  tenderly  touched 
it " 
' "  Did  she  do  all  that  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed ;  it  made  a  shiver  of  jealousy  run  all  over 
me  to  see  her  sweet  agitation.  Ah  !  I  would  give  worlds 
— yes,  fifty  black  eyes  if  I  could  have  them — to  be  able  to 
touch  the  female  heart  like  that." 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  I  declare,  my  client  will  be  over 
joyed  at  this  unexpected  result.  It  was  only  a  matter  of 
business,  after  all,  but  your  account  proves  the  surety  of 
accomplishment." 

The  lawyer  rubbed  his  hands  and  began  to  stride  up 
and  down  the  room,  his  bland  smile  as  genial  as  the  broad 
band  of  sunshine  that  streamed  through  the  window  upon 
the  floor. 

"  She  said  to  tell  you  she  had  received  the  letter  and 
would  answer  it,"  said  Dibbs,  giving  a  sly  wink  at 
Spike. 

"A  very  excellent  message — shows  a  womanly  reserve 
so  admirable  in  the  sex,"  said  the  lawyer  to  himself, 
complacently  adjusting  his  tie  and  surveying  his  form  with 
a  look  of  proud  satisfaction.  Then,  suddenly  glancing 
out  of  the  window,  he  added  to  Dibbs,  "Ah  !  I  must  be 
going  !  Yonder  is  a  client  with  whom  I  have  an  appoint 
ment.  I  will  talk  with  you,  friend  Dibbs,  further  about 
this  before  the  day  is  over.  But  you  take  my  advice  and 
don't  irritate  Mrs.  Boozer.  She  will  by  night  retract  what 
she  said.  Besides,  we  cannot  get  along  in  Slowville  with 
out  you." 

With  cautious  and  reassuring  nods  of  his  head,  he 
shook  the  young  man's  hand  and  left  the  room.  As  he 
walked  toward  his  office  he  exclaimed  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  knew  it — I  knew  it !  Her  loving  heart  told  her  the 
letter  spoke  only  of  me.  Cupid's  dart  hath  left  its  fester 
ing  wound.  The  lawyer  and  his  client  are  not  unwelcome 
to  her.  Yes,  she  smiles  on  me  !  Her  heart  is  mine  !  Oh, 
blessed,  waiting  heart !  This  very  night  I  will  press  thee 
to  my  bosom  !" 

Dibbs  all  this  while  was  leaning  on  the  counter,  the 


220  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

tears  of  laughter  running  clown  his  face,  as  he  said  to  the 
bird,  "  Spike  my  boy,  I've  fixed  the  lawyer's  case  for  him. 
He'll  go  and  propose  to  her  to-day.  I  could  see  the  rash 
purpose  kindling  in  his  eye.  He'll  try  to  court  her  now, 
Spike,  with  the  silvery  words  of  his  honeyed  mouth.  But 
— ha,  ha  ! — Spike,  court  her  as  he  will,  he'll  find  it  only  a 
court  of  errors,  after  all." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

WHAT  TWO  LETTERS  WERE  ABOUT. 

TT'IXD  words  and  kind  acts!  I  low  potent  their  in- 
JLJL.  fluence  ! — far  greater  than  all  law  and  authority,  the 
fear  of  punishment  or  the  contempt  of  correction,  the  cold 
ness  of  ingratitude  or  the  stubbornness  of  hatred.  No 
human  mind  can  comprehend  the  mysterious  alchemy 
by  Avlrich  they  work  upon  the  soul,  stirring  the  depths 
of  its  better  nature,  and  awakening  into  new  life  affec 
tion  long  since  dead  or  love  that  has  buried  itself,  wrap 
ped  in  the  shroud  of  human  neglect.  Like  the  soft  sun 
light  and  the  gentle  dew,  kind  words  and  kind  acts  go 
upon  their  heavenly  mission,  penetrating  the  dark  spots 
where  human  nature  languishes  for  the  warmth  of  sym 
pathy  or  the  friendly  touch  of  love.  And  as  the  sun  calls 
the  desert  to  blossom  again,  and  the  dew  gently  raises  each 
shrinking  flower,  so  responds  the  heart  of  man  to  the  ten 
der  voice  of  sympathy  and  the  tremulous  words  of  love. 
Poor.  Aziel  Loyd  !  She  had  written  her  letter  and  put 
the  monev  in  it  with  many  misgivings.  She  knew  how 
proud  A'olney  was,  how  independent  of  spirit,  how  con 
fident  in  his  own  unaided  abilities;  and  what  made  her 
more  doubtful  whether  he  would  keep  the  money  was  her 
knowledge  of  how  he  had  grown  more  and  more  reserved 
and  dignified  toward  her  these  past  few  years,  asserting 
rather  by  his  manner  than  by  his  words  his  social  superi 
ority.  It  was  as  if  he  had  said  to  her,  "I  have  outgrown 
your  love  and  care.  You  have  ceased  to  be  my  nurse;  I 
am  a  man  now.  You  will  oblige  me  by  putting  aside  your 


WHAT  TWO  LETTERS  WERE  ABOUT.  221 

old  ways  of  talking  to  and  treating  me.  Hereafter  I  wish 
you  to  pay  me  that  respect  which  is  due  to  our  new  re 
lations  of  servant  and  master."  It  had  been  a  very  hard 
struggle  Avith  A/iel  to  do  as  he  had  bidden  her.  To  curb 
the  expression  of  her  love;  to  restrain  the  motherlv  air 
Avhich  his  presence  always  inspired;  to  hide  the  look  of 
tender  admiration  in  her  eves  when  she  spoke  to  him  ;  to 
try  and  forget  that  her  care  and  love  were  no  longer  essen 
tial  to  his  happiness,  and  that  henceforth  she  was  to  be  to 
him  no  more  than  any  servant  his  mother  could  hire, — 
these,  each  and  all,  had  brought  many  a  pang  to  her  heart, 
many  a  secret  tear,  many  a  Avakeful  hour.  And  yet 
her  love  for  him,  which  no  indifference  or  neglect  could 
diminish,  had  helped  her  in  this  unequal  conflict  between 
her.  affections  and  the  exhibition  of  them.  Thus  it  had 
come  to  pass  that,  although  she  bore  herself  toAvard  him 
in  all  respects  as  he  had  Avished,  her  love  for  him  grew 
stronger  and  stronger,  like  a  floAver  blooming  with  lux 
uriant  fragrance  in  the  dark  and  silent  recess  of  a  rock. 
Ah!  rarest,  sweetest  floAA-er  of  all  the  earth  is  woman's 
love,  for  it  Avill  grow  with  lasting  life  in  barren  soil,  Avhere 
charity  itself  can  find  no  trace  of  nurture.  But  if  Aziel 
could  have  looked  into  the  station-house  this  evening 
and  seen  the  welcome  of  tears  her  letter  had  received — 
could  she  have  beheld  "  her  boy,"  as  her  heart  ever  spoke 
of  him,  pressing  her  letter  to  his  lips,  could  she  have  heard 
Avith  Avhat  affection  he  spoke  her  name,  and  how  he  up 
braided  himself  for  the  repelling  way  in  which  he  had 
treated  her,  and  could  she  have  caught  the  words  of  his 
firm  resolve  that  henceforth  he  would  never  by  word  or 
act  repress  any  demonstration  of  her  affection  for  him, — 
she  would  have  cried  Avith  joy,  even  as  he  did  noAv  as  he 
looked  down  upon  the  roll  of  money  in  his  hand,  and 
knew  how  surely  it  had  rescued  him  in  his  hour  of  great 
est  need. 

Fifty-four  dollars  !  He  counted  it  slowly  OA'er  with  his 
trembling  fingers.  Small  bills  every  one  of  them,  just  as 
she  had  treasured  them  up  week  after  week  for  his  use, 
while  he  had  been  putting  her  away  from  him  with 
haughty  indifference.  His  heart  smote  him,  and  the 
money  seemed  to  burn  its  rebuke  into  his  very  hand. 
10* 


222  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

Yet  stronger  grew  his  gratitude  and  firmer  his  resolu 
tion  of  reparation. 

"  Well,  my  friend,"  said  Sandy  Grill's  gruff  voice  as 
he  opened  the  door  and  stood  on  the  threshold,  "  I've 
told  your  story  to  the  lieutenant.  He  says  you  can  bunk 
here  for  the  night.  That's  the  best  we  can  do  for  you, 
though  I  don't  mind  going  a  quarter  on  your  supper.  So 
come  along;  we'll  take  a  plate  of  oysters  together." 

"lam  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Volncy.,  excitedly, 
beckoning  to  him  and  holding  out  in  his  open  hand  the 
roll  of  bills;  "but  I  have  got  money  myself  no\v.  See! 
I  found  this  in  my  pocket." 

"Found  it  in  your  pocket?"  slowly  exclaimed  the 
policeman  as  he  came  forward  and  looked  down  at  the 
money,  and  then  fastened  an  incredulous  gaze  on  his  com 
panion.  "See  here!  what  kind  of  a  game  do  you  call 
this  ?  Robbed  of  every  cent  you  had  a  little  while  ago, 
and  now  with  your  fist  full  of  greenbacks.  This  must  be 
a  country  game  of  bluff — " 

"Read  this  letter,"  interrupted  the  other.  "The  money 
I  found  in  it,  put  there  by  mv  old  nurse.  She  certainly 
hid  the  letter  in  my  pocket  as  I  bid  her  good-bye  this 
morning,  but  I  never  found  it  till  a  few  moments  ago." 

Sandy  Grill  read  the  letter,  stopping  now  and  then  for 
an  ejaculatory  "  Humph  !"  and  a  scrutinizing  glance  at  his 
companion.  When  he  had  finished  reading,  he  turned  the 
epistle  thoughtfully  over,  as  if  he  were  either  debating  its 
genuineness  or  trying  to  comprehend  the  circumstances 
under  which  it  had  been  written.  At  last,  examining  the 
money  in  the  young  man's  hand  with  a  curious  and  doubt 
ful  look,  he  seemed  convinced  that  no  deception  was  be 
ing  practiced  upon  him.  He  handed  back  the  letter, 
saying, 

"  Well,  I  don't  go  much  on  nurses  as  a  class — the  best 
of  'em  are  poor  shifts  for  mothers — but  this  nurse  of  yours 
couldn't  have  done  more  if  she  were  your  mother.  You 
ought  to  think  a  heap  of  her.  I  tell  you,  when  people 
will  give  you  money,  they  have  got  a  feeling  for  you  that's 
worth  having.  But  it  was  just  like  a  woman  to  go  and 
stick  it  that  way  in  your  pocket,  where  you  might  have 
lost  it  a  dozen  times  to-day.  Women  are  always  putting 


WHAT  TWO  LETTERS  WERE  ABOUT.  223 

money  away  in  old  stockings,  stove-pipes  and  tin  cans, 
and  out-of-the-way  pockets,  where  a  man  would  never 
think  of  looking  for  it ;  and  the  first  thing  they  know 
it's  burnt  up,  thrown  away  or  lost." 

"  But  it  was  very  lucky  for  me  she  put  the  money  where 
she  did.  If  it  had  been  in  my  pocket-book,  it  would  have 
gone  with  the  other." 

uSo  it  would,"  laughed  Sandy  Grill.  "In  that  case 
you  would  have  loaned  your  turkey-friend  a  hundred  dol 
lars  instead  of  forty-five.  Well,  I  am  glad  yon  have  got 
out  of  your  scrape  so  easily.  Now  I  must  go  back  to  my 
beat ;  so,  if  you  will  come  along  with  me,  I'll  show  you  a 
decent  lodging-house  where  you  can  stay  to-night.  Only 
keep  your  money  out  of  sight  and  have  nothing  to  say  to 
any  body.  A  stranger  can  get  along  all  right  in  this  city 
if  he  keeps  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets  and  his  mouth 
shut.  Keep  your  own  counsel ;  never  show  your  money 
nor  tell  your  business  among  strangers." 

With  this  parting  advice  he  motioned  him  to  take  up 
his  valise,  and  they  left  the  station-house  in  quest  of  the 
inn,  which  was  near  by.  Here  Sandy  Grill  introduced 
his  companion  to  the  proprietor,  and  having  seen  the 
young  man's  name  registered  and  a  good  room  assigned 
him,  bade  him  good-night  and  wished  him  good  luck. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you  enough,  sir,  for  your  kindness  to 
me,';  said  Volney  as  they  parted  at  the  outer  door.  "  I 
shall  always  remember  you  with  gratitude ;  and  if  ever  I 
can  repay  you,  I  certainly  shall  with  all  my  heart." 

"  You  can  show  your  gratitude,  as  I  said  before/'  re 
plied  the  policeman  in  a  low  and  determined  voice,  "by 
keeping  away  from  that  mill.  Give  the  boys  and  girls  a 
chance  for  their  living.  That's  all  the  pay  I  ask.  You've 
got  money  and  a  good  home,  and  they  haven't."  He 
walked,  away,  muttering  something  about  bread  being 
taken  out  of  people's  mouths  by  those  who  have  got 
plenty  in  their  own. 

Volney  Slade,  not  at  all  shaken  by  the  policeman's 
words  in  his  determination  to  apply  for  the  situation  at 
Marsh's  mill,  quickly  despatched  his  supper,  for  which  his 
excited  mind  gave  little  appetite.  Then  he  sought  his 
room,  where  he  busied  himself  writing  two  letters.  These 


224  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

letters,  written  in  the  following  order,  were  afterward  in 
closed  in  one  envelope  and  sent  by  a  trusty  messenger  of 
the  landlord  to  the  post-office  in  time  to  catch  the  mid 
night  mail,  which  would  bring  them  to  their  destination 
the  following  morning.  The  first  letter  ran  thus  : 

"  PHII.A.,  Xov.  10,  ]>::. 

'•  MY  I>I:AR  KMILY  :  This  is  the  lirst  letter  I  have  ever  written  you. 
I  write  it  with  a  sad  luit  loving  heart,  i'or  I  ask  you  to  forgive  me.  know 
ing  how  nnieh  I  need  your  forgiveiuss  and  feeling  how  little  1  deserve 
it,  and  yet  so  conscious  that  I  can  never  he  happy  again  without  it. 

"  Oh,  if  1  could  only  lilot  out  the  memory  of  tin's  morning,  how  happy 
should  I  he  !  "What  evil  spirit  possessed  me  to  speak  so  unkindly  to  you, 
to  treat  you  so  cruelly?  And  when  1  loved  you  so  much! — so  much, 
indeed,  that  now  I  pen  these  words  with  the  hitter  tears  of  remorse,  that 
you  may  the  better  know  how  much  I  loved  you  then,  how  much  I  love 
you  now ! 

"1  beseech  yon  to  forgive  me.  As  it  was  my  first,  so  shall  it  be  my 
last  ofiense.  1  was  not  myself.  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  saying.  My 
lips  belied  my  heart  ;  my  conduct  bore  false  witness  of  my  soul.  1  look 
back  ni)on  it  all  as  a  dreadful  dream,  in  which,  controlled  by  some 
d  spirit,  I  spoke  and  acted  so  totally  contrary  to  all  my  feelings 
toward  you.  Believe  me  when  I  assure  you  that  my  faith  in  you  is  only 
equaled  by  my  love.  And  this  faith  in  you  tells  me  not  only  that  you 
will  be  true  to  me  though  all  the  earth  should  fail,  but  my  love  conies 
now  with  the  aiiirming  hope  that  you  will  also  pardon  me  as  fully  and 
forgive  me  as  truly  as  you  love  me. 

"  For  do  yon  not  love  me  still  ?  1  ask  the  question,  knowing  only  too 
well  the  strength  of  your  love,  which  has  dared  so  much  i'or  seliish  me. 
J  feel  how  unworthy  I  am  of  so  good  and  true  a  heart  as  yours.  But  if 
you  will  only  forgive  and  forget.  I  will  ever  strive  to  show  you  that  my 
heart  can  love  you  faithfully  and  find  its  greatest  joy  in  making  your 
happiness  the  object  of  my  life. 

"Here,  alone,  surrounded  by  strangers,  with  thousands  of  strange 
hearts  beating  around  me,  I  turn  my  thoughts  to  you  with  a  grateful 
•  if  rest.  \Yith  your  dear  image  in  my  soul.  I  can  never  be  utterly 
lonely,  though  I  miss  your  sweet  voice  and  the  loving  touch  of  your 
caress.  And  sad  though  I  be  at  what  I  have  done  to  yon,  there  steals 
over  me  now  the  memory  of  our  happy  hours,  which  echoes  in  my  soul 
the  promise  of  joys  to  come,  when,  knowing  me  better,  you  shall  love 
me  more,  and  1  shall  ever  be  your  devoted  worshiper. 

"Good-night!  I  say  it  with  a  kiss  and  sigh  of  love,  which  may 
some  good  angel  hear  to  your  dear  pillow  ere  the  night  has  passed,  with 
a  happy,  loving  dream  of  me,  so  unworthy,  yet  so  devoted. 

"Yours,  humbly  and  ever  faithfully, 

"  YC/LM:Y." 

The  second  letter,  in  which  he  inclosed  the  first,  was 
this : 

"  DEAR  AZIKL  :  How  can  I  sufficiently  thank  yon  for  your  kind  re 
membrance  of  me,  which  this  night  came  forth  from  its  hiding-place  to 


SCENE  IN  THE  LITTLE  BACK  OFFICE.          225 

greet  me?  I  do  not  deserve  such  a  token  of  affection  at  your  hands.  I 
confess  this  with  shame  as  I  remember  the  many  times  I  have  hurt  your 
feelings  )>y  repelling  your  attentions  to  my  comfort  and  happiness,  and 
the  exhibitions  of  your  affection  for  me.  It  was  mean — yes,  very  un 
grateful  -in  me  to  treat  you  so,  and  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  it. 

"  You  were  a  dear,  good  nurse  to  me  in  those  years  when  I  remember 
no  care  but  yours.  You  entered  into  every  childish  joy  and  sorrow  of 
mine  ;  and  as  1  grew  older,  how  well  I  know  you  were  ever  my  play 
mate,  my  champion,  and  my  sole  refuge  in  all  times  of  trouble  ! 

"A  second  mother  you  were  to  me,  Aziel,  and — 1  confess  it  now — you 
were  for  many  years  more  to  me  than  my  own  mother.  I  loved  you 
more,  I  confided  in  you  more.  I  can  never  understand  it,  but  you 
seemed  dearer  and  nearer  to  me  than  she.  I  loved  you  freely  ;  toward 
her  I  always  felt  a  restraint  which  even  now  I  cannot  overcome. 

"  How  wrong  and  ungrateful  it  was  in  me  to  try  to  put  aside,  as  some 
useless  thing  of  the  past,  the  affection  I  had  for  you,  and  still  have  now ! 
I  thought  it  was  manly  to  outgrow  it,  and  the  sooner  to  do  so,  1  made 
you  cease  your  old  ways  toward  me.  But  let  youth's  folly  and  failure 
be  forgotten  together.  I  will  never  again  steel  my  manner  against  yon. 
1  will  always  show  you  the  love  I  feel  for  you,  and  you  shall  do  and  say 
to  me  whatever  your  loving  heart  prompts. 

"  Dear  old  nurse  !  As  1  gratefully  accept  your  gift  to-night  with  all 
my  old  affection  for  you  coming  again  into  a  new  and  stronger  life,  so 
yon  must  forgive  me  all  the  slights  of  these  later  years,  and  believe 
me  now,  as  ever,  Your  own  boy, 

VOLXKY." 

"P.  S. — Inclosed  you  will  find  a  letter  to  Emily  Grundle  Will  you 
keep  it  a  secret  from  mother,  and  see  it  safely  in  Emily's  own  hands  as 
soon  as  you  can  ?  If  so,  my  old  nurse  shall  make  me  far  happier  than 
she  can  imagine.  V." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SCENE  IN  THE  LITTLE  BACK  OFFICE. 

AS  Sandy  Grill  had  said,  there  was  trouble  at  Marsh's 
mill.  Labor  and  Capital,  goaded  by  the  hard  times, 
were  having  a  quarrel.  Only  half  of  the  factory  was 
moving,  the  weaving  department  being  idle.  The  weav 
ers  had  struck  against  a  proposed  reduction  of  wages  ; 
and  as  thus  far  thev  had,  by  threats  and  bribes,  effect 
ually  prevented  others  from  taking  their  places,  they  were 
waiting  with  the  patient  confidence  of  victory  for  their 
employer  to  accede  to  their  terms.  William  Marsh  did  not 
look  like  a  man  to  accede  to  anybody's  terms  save  his  own  ; 
and  this  morning,  as  he  sat  in  his  little  back  office,  out  of 
which  he  glared  upon  half  a  dozen  badly-paid  clerks,  who 

P 


226  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

crouched  over  their  books  as  if  in  fear  of  his  nigh  presence, 
there  \vas  an  appearance  of  angry  determination  about  Jlim 
that  did  not  augur  well  for  the  success  of  the  strikers. 
His  thin,  tight  lips  said,  "  No ;  lie  would  shut  up  the 
mill  before  he  would  give  in  to  their  impudent  interfer 
ence  with  his  business.  No  " — and  here  he  smothered  an 
oath — "  he  would  even  burn  the  mill,  if  that  were  neces 
sary  to  insure  his  triumph  over  a  set  of  lawless  miscre 
ants  who  thought  to  browbeat  him  into  submission." 

William  Marsh  was  a  very  positive,  domineering  man 
about  his  mill.  Vulgarity  would  have  called  him,  with 
more  truth  than  elegance,  pig-headed.  Here  he  ruled 
with  a  will  as  inflexible  as  a  piece  of  shafting,  with  an 
authority  as  unyielding  as  the  frames  of  his  looms,  and 
with  a  heart  as  visible  as  that  of  a  bobbin.  But  he  un 
derstood  working-people  thoroughly ;  most  certainly  he 
thought  so,  judging  from  the  angular  rigidity  with  which 
he  carried  out  his  views.  His  best  way  of  getting  along 
with  them  was  to  keep  them  down  by  having  as  little 
intercourse  as  possible  with  them,  and  giving  them  to 
understand,  first,  last  and  all  the  time,  that  his  only 
obligation  to  them  was  to  pay  their  wages,  and  their 
bounden  duty  to  him  was  to  earn  those  wages  to  the 
very  last  cent.  As  to  wages,  that  was  a  question  that 
never  caused  him  the  slightest  deliberation — at  least,  on 
the  side  of  an  advance.  He  knew  what  he  could  afford 
to  pay;  therefore  he  should  be,  and  was,  the  sole  judge 
of  the  rate  of  wages  ;  and  if  times  were  such  that  he 
could  get  working-people  at  rates  even  below  those  which 
he  could  afford,  it  was  most  assuredly  his  privilege  and 
duty  so  to  do  as  a  prudent  and  shrewd  capitalist.  If  the 
working-people  could  not  get  high  wages,  he  argued,  they 
ought  to  be  satisfied  with  low  ones.  Any  wages,  of 
course,  were  better  than  none.  Let  these  spendthrifts, 
who  were  always  in  debt,  no  matter  how  much  they  were 
paid,  live  within  their  wages,  he  said — buy  fewer  good 
clothes  and  less  rich  food.  It's  the  extravagance  of  the 
working-people,  he  asserted,  that  had  brought  on  the 
hard  times.  The  country  is  rich  enough.  It's  the  fault 
of  the  working-classes  that  they  are  poor.  If  they  had 
been  economical  and  saving,  thev  would  not-  be  in  want 


SCENE  IN  THE  LITTLE  BACK  OFFICE.          227 

now,  and  trying,  as  they  were,  to  make  up  for  their  ex 
travagance  and  neglect  by  robbing  capitalists  of  their 
hard  savings  and  foresighted  accumulations. 

Thoroughly  imbued  with  these  one-sided  ideas  of  his 
responsibilities,  William  Marsh  had,  so  far  as  profits  were 
concerned,  run  his  mill  successfully.  He  had  made  money 
— lots  of  it ;  but  he  had  made  no  friends.  He  was  known 
on  'Change  as  a  very  keen  man,  a  shrewd  buyer,  a  sharp 
seller.  Men  smiled  on  him  for  trade  and  fawned  on  him 
for  credit.  But  no  one  spoke  kindly  of  him,  only  talked 
of  him  as  they  would  of  some  patent  machine  for  making 
money,  and  a  most  difficult  machine  out  of  which  to  ex 
tract  it.  Nor  was  his  employes'  opinion  of  him  such  as 
one  would  like  to  have  inserted  in  an  obituary  notice — 
provided  his  heirs  were  so  pleased  with  his  will  as  to  give 
him  a  respectable  post-mortem  character.  The  working- 
people  about  William  Marsh  never  looked  for  the  friendly 
recognition  of  his  eyes  as  they  glided  by  him.  They 
would  sooner  have  expected  to  see  the  spark  of  sympathy 
glowing  in  those  of  a  dead  mackerel.  They  never  came 
to  him  for  advice  or  guidance  or  any  request,  however 
small.  They  would  sooner  have  gone  into  the  engine- 
room  and  told  their  troubles  to  the  fly-wheel,  and  for  rest 
laid  their  tired  hearts  on  the  great  whirling  belt.  No; 
they  readily  saw  the  line  of  non-intercourse  he  had  drawn 
between  them,  and  the  young  from  fear,  and  the  older 
from  contempt,  never  overstepped  it.  All  avoided  him  as 
if,  like  an  enemy,  he  were  safest  at  a  distance.  Thus  they 
worked  for  him,  caring  as  little  for  his  success  in  this  world 
and  the  next  as  he  did  for  theirs. 

Such  was  William  Marsh  at  his  mill,  on  'Change*and 
on  the  street.  At  home  he  was  another  man — ruled,  not 
ruling;  his  manners  subdued,  his  words  few  and  peaceful. 
A  brilliant  illustration  of  the  fact  was  he  that  the  tyrant 
abroad  is  a  slave  at  home.  Henpecked  he  was,  and  most 
vigorously,  and  this,  being  known  at  the  mill  by  some 
process  of  social  telegraphy,  was  no  little  satisfaction  and 
consolation  to  his  employes.  They  regarded  Mrs.  Marsh 
as  a  providential  avenger  of  his  harshness  to  them,  and 
derived  some  daily  comfort  from  their  knowledge  that, 
snub  and  harass  them  as  he  might,  when  he  reached  home 


228  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

lie  would  receive  the  same  measure  of  tyranny  lie  had 
meted  out  to  them.  Just  now,  the  hands  at  Marsh's  mill 
were  discomfiting  their  employer  verv  much  as  his  wife 
had  done  in  the  earlv  years  of  their  matrimonial  life,  be 
fore  he  had  learned  who  was  master  at  the  fireside;  for  a 
controlling  authority  soon  asseried  itself  there,  with  two 
temperaments  so  uncongenial  and  warlike  beneath  the  same 
roof.  His  wife's  contests  with  him  had  been  successful. 
It  had  been  a  long  series  of  engagements,  in  which  he 
had  retreated  from  citadel  to  citadel,  to  find  his  supply  of 
courage  growing  less  and  less  and  his  powers  of  resistance 
weaker.  But  he  unconditionally  surrendered  at  last.  In 
all  disputes  now  she  had  but  to  say  "  William  !"  in  that 
peculiar  intonation  of  voice,  with  a  slow  and  rising  inflec 
tion,  and  he  ceased  to  argue,  became  as  docile  as  a  lamb, 
ami  gave  up  his  opinion  as  quickly  as  a  dog  docs  a  bone 
when  a  stronger  antagonist  comes  upon  him.  The  con 
flict  of  authority  at  the  mill  had  not  as  yet  been  so  stic- 
ces-ful  on  the  part  of  his  opponents.  To  be  sure,  the 
weavers  had  gone  out  and  left  their  looms  idle  just  in  the 
midst  of  a  large  and  profitable  contract.  But  new  hands, 
driven  by  poverty  and  despair,  were  daily  applying,  in 
large  numbers,  for  work  at  any  price,  so  that  they  might 
live',  and  there  was  a  prospect  that  the  looms  would  soon 
be  running  despite  the  watchful  attempts  of  the  strikers 
to  prevent  it.  And  now,  to  add  to  the  complications  of 
the  situation  for  the  proprietor,  he  had  been  told  this 
morning  by  his  confidential  clerk,  Silas  Roe,  that  the 
picking-  and  carding-  and  spinning-rooms  were  getting 
ready  to  strike  if  the  weaving-room  should  be  run  with 
new  hands. 

"  Let  them  strike,  and  starve  !  What  do  I  care?"  said 
William  Marsh  with  a  curl  of  his  thin,  clean-shaven  lip. 
"I  have  a  mind  to  discharge  them  all  this  very  day.'' 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  be  good  policy,"  asked  Silas 
Hoe  with  a  timid  inclination  of  his  head  and  a  hesitating 
tone  'in  his  voice,  "to  take  the  weavers  back  until  we 
finish  this  contract,  and  then  gradually  weed  them  out, 
patting  in  their  places  u'ood  hands  upon  whom  we  can 
rely?" 

"  Xot  a  bit  of  it — not  a  bit  of  it !     I'll  have  mv  wav  if 


SCEXK   iy   THE  LITTLE  BACK  OFFICE.          229 

I  have  to  summon  police-officers  to  protect  me  in  my  rights. 
Things  have  come  to  a  fine  pass  in  this  country  when  a 
man  cannot  employ  whom  he  will !  But  I'll  do  it  if  I 
sink  every  dollar  I've  got  in  the  attempt.  Some  one  has 
got  to  take  a  linn  stand  against  this  spirit  of  communism 
— which  I  prophesied  long  ago  would  come — and  I  am 
that  man.  So,  let  them  do  their  worst,  I'll  be  ready  for 
them ;  and  that  they  may  thoroughly  understand  with  whom 
they  have  to  deal,  you  can  at  dinner-hour  tell  the  fore 
men  what  I  have  just  said." 

"Yes;  that  will  be  the  best  thing  to  do,"  said  Silas  Roe, 
changing  his  opinion  with  his  usual  promptness  to  suit 
that  of  his"  employer,  for  he  had  at  present  very  much  at 
stake  with  this  man.  "  These  working-people  ought  to  be 
shown  just  where  they  stand  in  relation  to  capital.  I  don't 
know  of  anybody  better  able  to  cope  with  them  than  you 
are,  Mr.  Marsh.  You  always  did  have  the  knack  of  man 
aging  them  and  keeping  them  down  to  their  work." 

"  I'll  show  them  the  power  of  capital  as  well  as  its 
.  rights.  The  lesson  will  be  one  they'll  remember  for  many 
a  day.  They'll  find  out  to  their  sorrow  the  difference  be 
tween  starving  and  living;"  and  a  smile  of  threatening 
evil  played  over  his  face  as  he  dismissed  his  clerk  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand  and  resumed  his  occupation  with  the 
papers  upon  his  desk. 

Silas  Roe  went  back  to  his  ledger  in  the  adjoining  room. 
As  he  leaned  over  this  book,  which  told  of  a  year's  heavy 
profits,  he  muttered,  away  down  in  his  heart : 

"A.  meaner  man  than  he  never  owned  a  dollar!  I  would 
wish  to  be  poor  all  my  life  if  I  had  to  make  my  money 
as  he  has  done,  by  grinding  everybody  down  and  treating 
human  beings  as  if  they  were  cattle,  to  toil  and  sweat  and 
stagger  under  burdens  too  heavy  to  carry.  Thank  Heaven 
he'll  get  paid  for  it  some  day  ! — if  not  here,  in  the  Here 
after.  The  more  I  see  of  such  men,  the  more  certain  am 
I  of  another  world,  where  we  poor  devils  shall  get  even 
with  them.  There  will  not  be  any  close-fisted  capitalists 
in  heaven,  that's  certain  !  And  to  think  that  so  hard 
hearted  a  man  should  have  so  sweet  a  daughter  as  Harr.'et! 
Harriet !" 

As  he  murmured  this  name  his  face  relaxed  into  a  softer 

20 


230  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEX. 

expression.  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  photograph,  upon 
which  he  was  soon  gazing  so  absorbed ly  that  he  forgot  all 
else  save  that  this  dear  face  was  his  own — that  of  his 
affianced  wife,  whose  wedding-day  was  already  fixed.  The 
wedding-day!  Oh,  day  of  days!  His  mind  went  off  on 
such  a  sweet  and  glorious  ramble  with  hope  and  love  and 
jov — those  fleet-footed  rovers  of  youthful  hearts — that  he 
was  not  easily  called  back  to  his  matter-of-fact  surround 
ings  by  the  voice  at  his  elbow.  It  was  only  when  his  arm 
was  gently  touched  that  he  started,  and  turning  saw  stand 
ing  beside  him  a  young  man  with  hat  and  valise  in  hand. 
Already  the  other  clerks  were  quizzically  regarding  this 
new  coiner  with  askant  looks  over  their  shoulders,  while 
their  pens  went  on  sputtering  with  a  semblance  of  work 
for  the  benefit  of  the  ears  of  the  stern  man  in  the  little 
back  office. 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  Roe  with  something  of 
the  quick,  impatient  manner  of  his  employer.  "Come  to 
answer  that  advertisement?  Well,  you'll  find  Mr.  Marsh 
in  that  room,"  jerking  his  head  in  the  designated  direc 
tion  and  turning  again  to  his  ledger,  between  the  leaves 
of  which  he  had  deftly  slipped  the  photograph. 

The  young  man  went  to  the  room  thus  curtly  pointed 
out  with  a  hesitating  step  and  apprehensive  face,  which 
told  full  well  how  confused  he  Mas  by  the  strangeness  of 
his  surroundings  and  agitated  by  the  cool  indifference  of 
his  reception,  and  knocked  with  a  fearful  faintness  upon 
the  door.  It  was  with  difficulty  he  could  summon  resolu 
tion  to  push  it  open  in  response  to  the  quick,  gruff  sum 
mons  to  come  in.  As  he  did  so,  and  entered,  he  saw  a 
face  so  cold  and  vacant  looking  up  at  him  that  his  hopes 
quicklv  descended  far  below  the  freezing-point,  and  he 
stood  irresolute  and  silent. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

The  same  question  that  had  been  asked  him  in  the 
other  room,  the  same  harsh,  rasping  tone,  only  more  sug 
gestive  now  of  the  power  of  refusal. 

"  I  have  come  to  answer  your  advertisement — " 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  interrupted  the  man  with  an. impatient 
fling  of  the  hand.  "Then  you  can  wait  till  I  am  ready 
to  attend  to  you.  I  haven't  time  just  now  to  talk  about 


SCENE  IN  THE  LITTLE  BACK  OFFICE.          231 

so  small  a  matter ;"  and  he  returned  to  his  writing  with 
an  absorption  as  complete  as  if  his  visitor  were  a  thousand 
miles  away.  * 

The  young  man,  not  daring  to  set  down  his  valjse  or 
take  a  seat — for  he  had  not  been  asked  to  do  either,  though 
he  looked  dusty  and  tired — stood  waiting,  it  seemed  to 
him  an  age,  for  Mr.  Marsh  to  speak  to  him  again.  JJut 
the  pen  scratched  on  as  monotonously  as  if  it  were  writing 
the  world's  will  with  a  hundred  codicils  attached,  and  the 
man's  face,  as  Volney  watched  it  with  something  of  a 
feeling  akin  to  awe,  grew  more  and  more  repellent,  the 
sharp  features  more  scornful,  as  if  a  small  volcano  of 
wrath  were  gradually  pushing  itself  to  the  surface.  At 
last  the  pen  was  thrown  aside  with  an  air  of  triumph. 
Folding  up  what  he  had  written,  the  mill-owner  put  it 
in  a  large  envelope,  and,  directing  this,  struck  sharply 
upon  a  bell  that  stood  upon  the  table.  Its  summons 
was  quickly  answered  by  Silas  Roe,  to  whom  Mr.  Marsh 
gave  the  package,  saying, 

"  Take  this  down  to  the  office  of  the  Courier.  Tell 
them  I  want  it  published  in  to-morrow's  issue.  It  is  time 
these  working-people  got  a  quietus  through  the  public 
press.  This  article  will  show  them  up  in  their  true 
colors  as  the  enemies  of  law  and  order.  If  the  proprie 
tors  of  the  Courier  should  refuse  to  publish  this,  you  can 
stop  rny  advertisement.  I'll  support  no  paper  that  goes 
against  my  interests  and  the  welfare  of  society.  That's 
all;  go!"  and  Silas  went. 

Then  turning  to  the  youthful  stranger,  who  felt  very 
much  by  this  time  as  if  he  had  been  entrapped  into  a  lion's 
den,  he  said,  looking  through  and  over  him,  a  favorite 
method  of  his  in  the  inspection  of  working-people, 

"  So  you  want  work  bad  enough  to  come  after  it,  do 
you?  That's  a  good  sign — shows  you  are  not  waiting  for 
somebody  to  come  along  and  put  bread  and  butter  into 
your  mouth  for  nothing.  Who  are  you  ?  Where  did 
you  come  from  ?" 

"  My  name,  sir,  is  Slade.  I  have  come  from  the 
country.  •! — " 

"Oh,  from  the  country,  are  you?  That's  a  bad  sign — 
very  bad.  Shows  an  unsteady  character  when  a  man  of 


232  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

your  age  leaves  his  home  to  wander  around  cities.  Tired 
of  hard  work  and  looking  for  some  easy  job,  I  suppose? 
But  you  have  com*  to  the  wrong  plaee  if  you  expect  to 
earn  money  here  without  working  hard  for  it." 

"I  am  \villing  to  work  hard,  sir,  if  you  will  only  give 
me  a  chance." 

"  Yes,  of  course/'  broke  in  the  other  with  a  sneer ; 
"that's  what  you  all  say.  But  when  you're  given  a 
chance  you  never  improve  it,  except  to  make  war  upon 
the  hand  that  feeds  you.  You  look  meek  enough  no\v, 
but  von  would  join  a  strike,  I  suppose,  as  soon  as  any  of 
them." 

Volney  Slade's  face  flushed.  He  drew  himself  up 
with  a  quiet  dignity  and  looked  the  man  steadily  in  the 
eye,  while  upon  his  lips  trembled  a  bold  and  contemptu 
ous  reply  to  this  insulting  speech.  But  prudence  gained 
the  mastery  over  his  courage,  and  after  a  pause  he  replied 
in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  the  feeling  he  could  not 
wholly  repress: 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,  you  condemn  me  Avithout  a  trial. 
However  I  may  appear  to  you  now,  I  am  sun1  of  one 
thing — that  if  employed  by  you  I  can  show  myself  grate 
ful  to  my  employer  at  all  times  and  in  all  places." 

"That's  a  very  good  speech,  but  I  have  heard  it  often 
before.  They  all  talk  that  way.  Gratitude!  I  have 
been  employing  people  the  last  twentv  years,  and  I  have 
never  yet  seen  any  of  it.  Gratitude!  It  sounds  well 
alongside  of  committees  and  dictation  and  threats  and 
strikes.  Well,  what  do  you  know  about  machinery?" 

"  Nothing  practically,  sir,  but  I  am  sure  I  could  soon 
learn  to  be  of  service  to  you." 

"Ah,  indeed  !"  raising  his  eyebrows  with  an  ironical 
smile.  "  Y7ou  think  you  could  soon  learn  and  be  of  ser 
vice,  do  you?  What  then  ?  Why,  you  would  go  off  and 
leave  me  in  the  lurch  for  some  situation  where  you  could 
get  fifty  cents  more  a  week.  I  would  teach  vou,  and  some 
body  else  would  get  the  benefit  of  my  trouble.  That  I 
have  done  a  great  many  times.  It's  a  phase  of  gratitude 
with  which  I  am  very  familiar."  . 

"I  hope  the  ingratitude  of  others  will  not  keep  you 
from  giving  me  a  trial,"  pleaded  Volney,  for  he  began  to 


SCENE  IN  THE  LITTLE  BACK  OFFICE.          233 

feel  that  the  promise  of  this  situation  was  fast  slipping 
from  him.  "I  will  do  my  best  to  please  you." 

"How  much  wages  do  you  expect?"  asked  the  man 
after  a  short  silence,  in  which  he  had  been  critically  sur 
veying  with  his  steel-gray  eyes  the  entire  form  of  his  vis 
itor,  as  if  he  were  a  new  machine  on  inspection. 

"  Whatever  you  choose  to  pay.  Wages  are  not  so  much 
an  object  with  me  as  learning  the  trade." 

"The  old  story  again.  Wages  no  object  now,  but  as 
soon  as  you  have  learned  something,  then  the  wages  will 
be  everything  and  the  trade  nothing.  Another  phase  of 
gratitude,  with  which  I  am  also  acquainted.  Are  you 
married  ?"' 

"No,  sir." 

"That's  so  much  in  your  favor.  You  can  live  on  less 
and  work  with  better  attention.  Marriage  is  the  bane 
of  workingmen.  They  marry  before  they  are  able  to 
support  wives  and  children.  What  is  the  consequence? 
Why,  their  wives  and  children  die  by  thousands,  fill  our 
almshouses  and  go  begging  in  droves  along  our  streets. 
A  poor  man  ought  to  stay  single.  It  is  his  duty  to  him 
self,  to  his  employer  and  to  society.  You  have  nobody 
dependent  on  you — no  father  or  mother,  or  brother  or 
sister  ?" 

"No,  sir;  I  have  only  my  own  living  to  make." 

"  That's  another  thing  in  your  favor.  Shows  that  you 
have  not  looked  upon  this  mill  as  an  almshouse,  out  of 
which  you  expect  to  feed  and  clothe  a  herd  of  relatives  at 
my  expense.  Well,  I  will  give  you  a  trial  and  see  how 
good  you  can  make  your  promises  of  gratitude  and  devo 
tion.  You  may  prove  an  exception  to  the  rule,  though  I 
doubt  it." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Volney,  draw 
ing  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  his  eyes  brightening  for  the  first 
time  since  he  had  entered  the  room.  "  I  know  I  shall  not 
disappoint  you." 

"Report  to  me  a  week  from  to-day.  A  place  will  be 
ready  for  you  at  that  time.  Your  wages  will  be  six  dol 
lars  a  week.  You  can  get  board  anywhere  around  here 
for  four  dollars.  That  will  leave  you  a  good  margin  for 
savings.  At  the  end  of  six  months,  if  you  prove  your- 

20  * 


234  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

self  capable,  industrious  and  sober,  I  will  add  four  dollars 
a  week  to  your  wages,  and  increase  them  from  year  to  year 
as  you  become  valuable.  Xo\v  I  have  given  yon  a  chance, 
despite  mv  first  impressions  of  you.  Report  here  in  a 
weelc,  and  let  me  see  how  much  you  deserve  my  kindness. 
You  can  go  now/'  abruptly  motioning  toward  the  door. 

The  young  man  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  began  to 
give  expression  to  his  thankfulness  in  stammering  words, 
yet  words  as  earnest  as  the  gratitude  he  really  felt.  The 
situation  was  his  at  last.  He  had  a  chance  for  fortune 
now.  His  dreams  were  coming  true.  These  thoughts  so 
confused  him  with  their  sudden  rush  of  joy  that  he  for 
got  for  the  instant  where  he  was.  The  tears  blinded  his 
eyes.  He  put  up  his  hand  to  brush  them  away,  and  did 
not  see  the  man  impatiently  beckoning  him  to  be  gone. 

"Come,  start  along,"  said  Mr.  Marsh,  "and  keep  that 
keen  edge  on  your  gratitude  till  I  see  you  again.  And 
another  thing  :  when  you  leave  here,  go  straight  to  your 
home.  Don't  loiter  around  tin's  mill,  or  have  a  word  to 
say  to  any  of  the  hands  as  to  who  you  are  or  what  your 
business  is,  or  what  I  have  said  to  you.  If  you  do,  you 
will  lose  your  situation,  that's  all.  Go  !" 

Once  outside  the  mill,  Volney  found  that  he  would  have 
to  press  his  way  through  a  small  group  of  determined  men 
and  women  who  stood  about  the  door  and  put  themselves 
in  his  path  as  if  they  would  hold  a  parley  with  him.  They 
were  a  committee  of  striking  weavers,  who  were  waiting 
for  an  audience  with  their  late  employer.  They  had  been 
selected  by  their  associates  to  make  one  more  appeal  to  him 
to  be  taken  back  at  the  old  wages,  which  they  were  armed 
with  arguments  and  facts  to  prove  were  barely  sufficient 
to  obtain  the  necessaries  of  life.  Xo  wonder  these  men  and 
women,  feeling  they  were  engaged  in  an  unequal  contest 
for  what  they  thought  their  rights,  looked  upon  this  new 
comer  with  scowling  faces  and  threatening  eyes.  They 
surmised  full  well  what  had  been  his  errand,  and  with  an 
intuition  quick  as  the  deft  fingers  of  their  hands  they  saw 
by  the  confident,  satisfied  look  on  his  face  that  he  had  been 
successful . 

"  I  sav,  my  friend,"  spoke  a  tall,  brawny,  brown-bearded 
man,  striding  after  Volney,  who  was  congratulating  him- 


SCENE  IN  THE  LITTLE  BACK  OFFICE.          235 

self  upon  having  escaped  the  group  unquestioned,  and  lay 
ing  a  huge,  sinewy,  bare  arm  upon  his  shoulder,  "  have 
you  been  hunting  for  work  in  there?" 

"  That's  a  question  I  cannot  answer,"  replied  Volney 
with  all  the  firmness  he  could  command  in  his  voice,  and 
looking  up  with  an  unsteady  gaze  at  the  begrimed  face 
that  towered  above  him — a  face  soiled  with  dust  and  oil 
and  perspiration,  yet  with  features  as  sharply  defined  as 
if  they  were  lines  of  steel,  and  with  eyes  that  glowed  as 
steadily  as  the  fires  that  burned  in  the  furnace  the  man 
had  left  but  a  moment  ago. 

"  Why  can't  you  answer  it?"  demanded  he,  with  a  trifle 
of  menace  "in  his  voice.  "Are  you  ashamed  to  tell  that 
you  have  been  trying  to  steal  our  living  from  us,  sneak 
ing  around  hci*e  to  get  a  job  that  don't  belong  to  you,  and 
never  shall  ?" 

"  My  business  is  my  own,"  asserted  Volney  with  a  dig 
nity  that  for  an  instant  surprised  the  man. 

Then,  quickly  shaking  off  the  other's  hold,  he  turned 
rapidly  away,  and  left  the  man  looking  after  him  with 
brows  that  lowered  more  and  more  as  the  head  shook 
itself  with  slow  threatening  gestures. 

"  What  did  he  say,  Keddic  ?"  asked  several  of  the 
group,  running  up  to  where  he  stood  still  silently  gaz 
ing  after  the  retreating  form. 

"  Say  !"  repeated  the  machinist  with  a  mocking  laugh 
as  he  tossed  his  head  contemptuously  in  the  direction  of 
the  mill.  "  Why,  he  said  just  what  old  bobbin-scraper 
yonder  will  say  when  we  go  in  to  see  him  :  '  None  of  y< tin- 
business  !'  What  other  answer  do  you  want  than  that? 
It's  short  and  sweet,  isn't  it  ?  What  better  salt  do  you 
poor  devils  ask  to  put  in  your  porridge  ?  None  of  your 
business !  as  the  hangman  said  to  the  fellow  on  the  gal 
lows  ;"  and  he  laughed  on  louder  than  before. 

A  hollow  and  harsh  laugh  it  was,  but  the  group  under 
stood  its  meaning,  for  without  a  word,  only  shrugging 
their  shoulders  with  quiet  satisfaction,  they  followed 
him,  leading  the  way  to  the  mill. 


236  AS  JT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

GETTING  READY  FOR  SOMETHING. 

WHATEVER  intentions  stirred  the  heart  of  Nicholas 
Grundle  to-day,  he  well  kept  them  a  secret  with  his 
lips,  though  his  elastic  step  and  bright  eyes  and  bustling 
movements  betrayed  the  fact  that  he  was  laboring  under 
an  excitement  as  pleasant  and  absorbing  as  it  was  unusual 
with  him.  Long  before  daylight  he  had  risen  from  his 
bed,  where  lie  had  passed  nearly  the  whole  night  in  plan 
ning  his  cunning  scheme.  Moving  about  on  tiptoe,  lest 
he  should  waken  the  sleeper  in  the  next  room,  he  lighted 
the  candle  and  began  the  first  work  which  he  had  laid  out 
for  the  day.  This  was  the  writing  of  the  deed  which  was 
to  convey  in  fee  simple  the  title  of  his  farm  to  J.  Lawrence 
Adams  for  the  consideration  of  twenty  thousand  dollars. 
Before  he  had  retired  he  had  got  together  all  things  neces 
sary  for  his  task,  so  that  they  were  ready  at  his  hand  now 
as  he  seated  himself  at  the  little  table.  There  was  fresh 
ink  in  the  bottle,  and  a  new  goose- quill,  and  before  him 
lay  spread  open  his  own  deed — a  dingy  yellow  parch 
ment.  Alongside  of  this  document  was  the  blank  deed, 
taken  from  a  bundle  of  similar  legal  papers  readv  for  fill 
ing  out  and  executing,  a  supply  of  which,  bv  some  strange 
foresight,  he  purchased  years  ago,  though  never  until  now 
had  he  occasion  to  use  one  of  them.  He  was  an  odd  sight 
bending  over  the  table,  his  eyes  brighter  than  the  light  of 
many  candles  such  as  this,  though  the  hand  which  held  the 
pen  was  at  first  a-  unsteadv  as  the  flickering  flame.  Avarice 
soon  gave  it  a  steadier  grasp,  and  he  wrote  on  in  firm,  bold 
letters,  copying  word  after  word  without  hesitation  or  error. 
Several  times  he  stopped  and  pushed  back  the  locks  of  his 
white  hair,  that  fell  athwart  his  vision  when  he  leaned  too 
closely  to  the  paper.  Once  he  held  his  pen  in  suspense 
and  turned  his  eyes  with  a  sharp  gaze  in  the  direction  of 
the  window.  But  it  was  oulv  the  branch  of  a  tree  swaved 
by  the  wind  that  had  touched  the  casement,  and  not  the 
hand  of  prowler,  spy  or  thief. 

When  his  task  was  at  last  finished,  and  he  had  signed 


GETTING   READY  FOR  SOMETHING.  237 

his  name  with  a  .smile  that  rippled  out  in  a  suppressed 
chuckle,  the  daylight  was  alreadv  coming  into  the  room. 
The  shadows  by  which  he  had  been  surrounded  had  van 
ished  like  spirits  of  the  night,  and  the  candle  at  his  side 
was  hut  a  tiny  spot  of  yellow  light,  sickly  wavering  in  the 
gleam  of  day.  Quickly  snuffing  the  caudle,  he  folded  the 
deeds,  the  ne\v  one  in  creases  exactly  like  those  of  the  old, 
and  stowed  them  in  the  capacious  pocket  of  Ins  coat.  He 
made  his  way  down  stairs,  rapping  on  Emily's  door  and 
cheerily  calling  to  her  in  a  voice  as  happy  as  that  which  hon: 
back  her  morning  greeting.  When  he  reached  the  bottom 
of  the  little  stairway,  C\csar  stood  waiting  for  him,  and 
licked  his- hands  with  a  whine  of  recognition.  The  old 
man  stooped  and  spoke  to  him  softly  and  patted  his  head 
— something  he  had  not  done  these  three  days  past,  as 
Caesar  well  remembered.  Followed  by  the  dog,  he  groped 
his  way  across  the  dark  room  and  threw  open  a  shutter. 
In  another  instant  his  eyes  were  on  the  cellar-door,  and 
then  on  the  corner  where  the  valise  had  been  left  the  night 
before.  The  door  was  closed  ;  the  valise  was  still  there. 
Retried  the  door;  it  was  locked,  lie  crept  over  to  the 
valise,  and  slowly  pulling  aside  the;  carpet  shook  the  valise 
with  his  hand.  It  was  just  as  heavy  as  when  he  had  tried 
its  weight  again  and  again  before  going  to  bed.  He  ex 
amined  the  padlock.  It  lay  in  the  same  position  in  which 
he  had  placed  it  for  the  detection  of  the  slightest  move 
ment.  The  treasure  was  still  in  his  possession.  Anxieiy 
no  longer  clouded  his  countenance.  The  old  covetous 
smile  came  back  with  swift  intensity.  He  stood  trem 
bling  with  joy,  looking  down  upon  the  valise  with  rapt 
eagerness  in  his  face,  as  if  lie  could  not  wait  another 
moment  for  its  contents  to  be  revealed.  At  last,  restrain 
ing  himself  with  a  sigh  of  impatience,  he  slowlv  dropped 
the  carpet  over  it  and  walked  away,  rubbing  his  hands  in 
silent  glee.  Of  course  he  had  known  it  was  safe  enonj.li, 
for  who  could  have  touched  it  in  the  night  without  his 
hearing  the  slightest  sound?  Nevertheless,  sure  as  he  was 
of  its  custody,  it  was  so  reassuring  and  so  exhilarating  to 
see  it  again. 

He  now  threw  open  all   the  shutters,  started  a  fire,  and 
again  calling  Emily  went  out  to  the  little  barn  faster  than 


238  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

he  had  ever  gone  in  that  direction  since  the  day  of  his 
first  taking  possession  of  the  place.  The  cow  was  startled 
indeed  by  the  briskness  with  which  he  opened  the  door 
and  the  unusual  quantity  of  cut  feed  he  soon  threw  into 
her  manger.  Even  the  hens  that  flew  down  at  his  feet 
from  all  quarters  of  the  barn  were  no  less  astonished  than 
old  Brindle  at  the  plentiful  supply  of  corn  he  scattered 
among  them.  What  had  come  over  him,  that  he  gave 
them  now  in  one  meal  that  which  he  had  formerly  doled 
out  in  three?  Another  time  he  would  have  doubted  his  own 
sanity  for  doing  so.  Brindle  could  not  understand  it,  for 
she  had  suddenly  stopped  eating,  and  turning  her  head  was 
looking  at  him  in  a  very  questioning  way  out  of  her  great 
brown  eves.  And  the  hens,  too,  cocked  up  their  heads  at 
him,  and  winked  their  eyes  and  clucked  inquiringly,  as  if 
they  too  would  like  some  solution  to  this  sudden  lavish- 
ness  of  food.  For  answer  he  gave  them  a  shrill  laugh 
followed  by  a  series  of  chuckles  as  he  tossed  more  corn 
among  them  ;  and  climbing  the  mow  with  the  agility  of  a 
boy,  he  threw  down  into  the  rack  of  Brindle's  manger 
such  a  huge  pile  of  hay  that  she  tugged  at  her  chain  as  if 
she  thought  all  the  contents  of  the  floor  were  coming 
down  upon  her.  Hurrying  from  the  barn,  he  went  back 
to  the  house,  skipping  and  trotting  by  turns,  his  face  all 
aglow  with  his  strange  excitement.  Meeting  Emily  at 
the  door,  he  cried  out,  catching  her  in  his  arms  and  kiss 
ing  her, 

"  Good-morning,  my  child  !  Your  eyes  are  bright,  and 
so  are  mine.  Ah  !  who  cannot  be  joyful  when  good  for 
tune  is  coming  to  them  ?  It  is  the  heart's  best  medicine; 
and  the  bigger  the  dose,  the  better,  say  I.  Breakfast  not 
ready  yet  ?"  he  continued,  glancing  at  the  table,  which  sac 
had  just  placed  in  position,  with  only  the  cloth  spread 
upon  it.  "So  much  the  better,  for  while  you  are  getting 
it  I  will  go  over  to  O'Hara's.  I  have  some  business  with 
him  that  is  best  settled  this  morning  before  he  is  off  to  his 
work.  Take  care,  my  child,  while  I  am  gone,  that  no  one 
enters  our  cottage.  I  will  be  in  sight  of  you  all  the  time 
from  this  door.  Should  anybody  come,  you  can  signal  to 
me  with  a  towel.  Ctesar,  there,  will  help  you  keep  watch." 
He  caught  up  his  cane — a  quaintly-twisted  hickory — and 


GETTING  BEADY  FOE  SOMETHING.  239 

with  a  cautious  shake  of  his  head  and  finger  at  her  started 
at  a  brisk  pace  down  the  garden-path. 

The  girl  gazed  after  him  with  a  puzzled  look  upon  her 
anxious  face.  What  was  the  matter  with  her  father,  so 
changed  in  a  day  in  all  his  ways?  If  he  had  acted 
strangely  the  day  before.,  he  was  certainly  acting  more  so 
now.  This  was  the  first  time  since  the  housekeeper's 
death  that  he  had  ever  left  her  alone  or  out  of  his  hearing 
save  yesterday,  when  he  had  sent  her  with  the  locket  to  the 
farm-house.  What  business  could  he  have  with  O'Hara, 
a  man  she  had  seen  him  more  than  once  order  away  from 
the  place  with  curses  and  threats  ?  What  if  bodily  harm 
should  befall  him?  she  asked  herself  with  a  little  start  ef 
aprehension  as  she  saw  him  leap  across  the  brook  and 
clamber  rapidly  up  the  hill  on  which  the  cottage  of 
O'Hara  stood,  in  a  clearing  in  full  view  half  a  mile 
away. 

Excited  by  her  doubts  and  apprehensions,  she  called 
Caesar  to  her  side.  Pie  reluctantly  left  his  watch  by  the 
valise  to  come  to  her.  As  he  did  so  she  stooped  down,  and 
laying  her  hand  upon  his  head  pointed  in  the  direction  of 
O'Hara's,  saying  in  a  voice  so  earnest  that  the  dog  prick 
ed  up  his  ears  and  gazed  steadfastly  across  the  fields,  growl 
ing  assent,  as  it  were,  to  her  words, 

"  Caesar,  yonder  is  your  dear,  good  master.  If  I  should 
tell  you  to  go  to  him,  you  must  run  faster,  dear  Csesa'r, 
than  ever  you  ran  for  me.  Will  you?"  The  dog  wagged 
his  tail  a  dozen  times  for  "Yes!" 

Meanwhile,  Nicholas  Grundle  had  reached  the  cottage 
of  O'Hara.  He  had  no  need  to  announce  his  coming, 
for  already  a  crowd  of  little  O'Haras,  standing  in  the 
doorway,  had  welcomed  him  with  a  series  of  yells,  from 
the  faint  treble  of  the  baby  to  the  whoop  of  the  largest 
boy.  Now,  as  he  drew  nearer,  they  were  shrinking  away 
and  holding  fast  to  each  other  for  mutual  protection. 
Although  there  was  a  smile  on  his  face,  it  was  so  grim 
and  full  of  wrinkles  they  took  it  for  a  frown  such  as 
Jack  the  Giant-Killer  might  have  worn. 

"The  top  o'  the  mornin'  to  ye,  Mister  Grumble,"  said 
a  broad,  jolly-faced  woman,  coming  to  the  door  and  plant- 
in";  herself  like  a  huo;e  tower  of  defence  in  the  midst  of 


240  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

her  children,  who,  taking  fresh  courage,  be^an  to  look  up 
at  him  with  quizzical  expressions  and  half-subdued  laugh 
ter,  as  if  he  were  some  bio;  jack-in-the-box  who  had 
popped  up  before  them.  "  Simrely  there  must  be  money 
in  the  field.-?  this  mornin'  to  bring  the  likes  of  ye  out  so 
airly.  Is  it  Dennis  ye  want  ?  He's  at  the  barn  beyant. 
Mind  ye  spake  to  him  civilly,  Mister  Grumble,  for  Den 
nis  has  his  bad  blood  b'ilin'  hard  this  mornin'.  It's  a 
dispute  I've  bin  havin'  wid  him,  an'  shure  it's  the  wurst 
o'  the  argument  he's  got.  So  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  yer 
head,  Mister  Grumble." 

The  old  man  turned  away  and  went  to  the  barn  with 
if  contemptuous  toss  of  his  head,  which  elicited  from  Mrs. 
O'Hara  aloud  and  derisive  remark,  and  from  the  children 
a  churns  of  yells.  Here  he  found  Dennis  with  one  of  his 
eys  in  a  state  of  inflammation  that  aptly  illustrated  one 
phase  of  gd ting  the  worst  of  a  matrimonial  argument. 

"Mr.  OMIara,"  he  said  with  a  nod  of  recognition 
and  coming  immediately  to  business,  "  can  you  keep  a 
seen"  9» 

"If  it's  worth  the  kapin',  I  can  kape  it  safe  as  ye  kape 
yer  piles  of  goold,  Mister  Gruntlc,  or  Mister  Grumble,  or 
whatever  yer  name  may  be,"  replied  the  Irishman  with 
something  of  a  sneer  iu  his  good-humored  laugh. 

"The  secret  is  not  a  great  one,"  resume;!  Grundle; 
"but  if  kept,  it  will  be  worth  more  to  yon  than  if  told." 

'•  Will  it,  indade?  Thin  my  mouth' will  be  like  a  bell 
without  a  clapper  for  yer  see-ret.  So  spake  on,  soft  and 
aisy ;"  and  the  man  drew  nearer  to  him.  "The  ould 
woman  beyant  has  ears  like  the  sky,  that  catches  every 
sound  a-goin',  an'  lets  thim  out  ag'in  like  a  ponrin'  rain." 

"Can  you  bring  your  horse  and  cart  to  my  place  to 
morrow  morning  at  five  o'clock  ?"  asked  the  miser,  in  a 
semi-whisper,  cautiously  peering  over  his  shoulder  to 
anticipate  Mrs.  O'llara's  approach. 

"  Ov  coorse  I   ken.     At  midnight,  if  ye  like." 

"No;  at  five  o'clock,  rain  or  shine — remember,  rain  or 
shine,"  repeated  Grundle,  casting  his  eyes  around  the  sky, 
which  was  already  portending  rain. 

"An'  is  that  all  yer  sacrer,   Mr.  Grumble?" 

"It's  as  much,  I'll  warrant,  as  yon  can  keep,"  muttered 


GETTING  READY  FOR  SOMETHING.  241 

the  other  with  a  suggestive  nod  of  his  head  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  dwelling,  at  the  corner  of  which  stood  Mrs. 
O'llara,  regarding  them  with  arms  akimbo.  "And,"  he 
added,  suddenly  lowering  his  voice  to  the  faintest  whisper, 
"  if  yon  can  bring  some  ready  cash  with  yon,  Mr.  O'Hara, 
I  can  sell  yon  the  cow  and  other  things  so  cheap  that  you 
will  make  a  good  deal  of  money  out  of  your  bargains. 
This  is  another  secret  for  you  to  keep."  Then,  elevating 
his  voice,  so  that  the  woman  might  hear,  and  clrolly 
winking  at  the  man,  he  cried,  "Good-morning,  then,  Mr. 
O'Hara !  Since  you  will  not  sell  your  horse  and  wagon, 
of  course  I  cannot  buy  them." 

"  Is  it  for  buyin'  the  horse  an'  wagon  ye  came?"  yelled 
the  woman  after  him  as  he  started  off.  "  Shu  re,  ye  wud 
be  chatin'  Dennis  out  o'  his  eyes  wid  me  standin'  by  him. 
Nayther  horse  nor  wagon  ye  will  git,  ye  ould  goold- 
pincher !  Go  'long  wid  ye,  ye  dhirty  ould  miser ! 
Shure,  the  likes  of  ye  wud  part  wid  a  blessin'  any 
day  fur  a  penny  !" 

The  miser  paid  no  heed  to  this  parting  salute,  which 
grew  less  and  less  distinct  as  he  hastened  away.  Compli 
ments  of  this  nature  were  so  usual  with  him  that  they  had 
lost  all  power  to  arrest  his  attention.  His  eyes  were 
fastened  on  the  door  of  his  cottage,  which  had  never 
been  out  of  his  sight  for  more  than  an  instant  during 
his  brief  absence.  He  saw  Emily  still  standing  in  the 
doorway  where  he  had  left  her.  He  waved  his  hand  in 
greeting  to  her  as  he  hurried  along,  brandishing  his  cane, 
and  now  and  then  giving  vent  to  his  happy  feelings  in 
snatches  of  songs  that  were  broken  as  the  treble  of  his 
voice,  but  gay  as  the  flow  of  his  thoughts.  When  he 
reached  his  home  he  made  no  allusion  to  where  be  had 
been  or  the  object  of  his  going,  and  to  Emily's  ques 
tioning  looks  he  replied  only  with  a  cheery  laugh  and 
a  pat  upon  her  cheek. 

"  Some  day  soon  I  will  tell  you  all,"  he  said,  seating 
himself  at  the  table,  where  she  had  silently  followed  him, 
unable  to  conceal  her  look  of  disappointment  at  his  ret 
icence.  "  This  much  I  will  tell  you  now :  good  fortune 
is  coming  to  us.  That  is  what  makes  me  so  happy ;  and 
it  must  make  you  happy,  too,  my  little  woman-child.  Ah! 
21  Q 


242  AS  IT  MAY 

I  knew  our  life  would  not  be  always  under  a  cloud.  I 
was  sure  the  sun  would  shine  as  brightly  for  us  as  it  does 
for  others  not  half  so  worthy.  Clouds  will  pass  away  ; 
the  sun  must  shine  to-morrow,  if  not  to-day.  There  is 
always  more  blue  sky  than  black,  and  our  sky  shall  soon 
be  all  blue." 

Thus  he  rattled  on  through  the  meal,  his  spirits  so 
buoyant  that  the  girl,  despite  his  equivocal  refusals  to 
answer  any  of  her  questions  as  to  what  their  coming  good 
fortune  might  be,  caught  the  contagion  of  his  hopeful  merri 
ment,  and  happy  anticipations  drove  every  shadow  from 
her  face.  It  must  be,  she  thought,  the  best  of  fortunes 
coming  to  them  that  made  him  so  joyful,  so  very  unlike 
himself,  with  that  constant  smile  upon  his  face  and  the 
happy  look  in  his  eyes.  Yet  her  heart  now  asked,  with  a 
secret  sigh,  as  her  father  left  the  table  and  went  up  the 
stairs,  what  was  any  good-fortune  for  her  compared  to  the 
love  of  him  who  was  far  away — whose  image  grew  brighter 
in  her  soul  with  every  hour  of  separation  ?  The  world 
could  give  her  no  good  fortune  unless  it  were  that  of  his 
loving  heart.  Oh,  if  she  only  knew  whether  she  should 
see  him  again — whether,  as  his  mother  had  said,  he  would 
soon  come  back  to  tell  her  how  much  he  loved  her!  If  he 
should  come  back — and  her  heart  whispered  he  would — 
what  then?  Why,  she  would  forgive  him  even  before  he 
could  ask  her.  Forgive  him  !  What  had  she  to  forgive, 
when  it  was  she  herself  who  had  made  him  angry?  Xo, 
no;  it  was  not  his  fault.  To  be  sure,  he  had  gone  away 
in  anger  from  her;  but  she  was  to  blame,  and  she  would 
tell  him  this  and  promise  never  to  annoy  him  so  again. 
With  these  and  many  loving  thoughts  that  brought  the 
softest  look  into  her  eyes  and  the  daintiest  blush  upon  her 
cheeks,  she  rose  from  her  chair  and  went  about  her  little 
round  of  household  work. 

Her  tranquil  and  happy  heart  made  every  task  so  light 
and  the  time  flv  so  fast  that  it  seemed  but  a  few  monienis 
before  the  morning  duties  were  performed  and  she  found 
herself  sitting  by  the  fireplace,  with  her  knitting  in  her 
hands,  waiting  for  her  father  to  come  down  and  begin  the 
instructions  of  the  day.  What  kept  him  so  long  in  his 
room,  moving  about  so  quietly  she  could  just  hear  his 


GETTING  READY  FOR  SOMETHING.  243 

light  footsteps  as  he  now  and  then  crossed  the  floor  above 
her  head  ?  This  question,  like  many  others  that  had  puz 
zled  her  little  brain  this  morning,  she  could  not  answer. 
AVhatevcr  he  was  doing,  it  was  something,  she  felt,  he  was 
trying  to  keep  secret  from  her ;  for  when  he  entered  the 
room,  she  remembered  he  turned  the  key  in  the  lock — a 
signal,  he  had  often  told  her,  that  meant  he  wished  to  be 
alone  ;  that  she  must  neither  come  near  him  nor  ask  him 
what  he  had  been  doing.  Suddenly — just  how  or  why 
she  never  could  tell — her  thoughts  left  her  father  and 
went  speeding  across  the  fields  to  the  farm-house  ;  and 
with  her  thoughts  went  her  eyes,  for  in  full  view  of  the 
window  where  she  sat  was  that  house  around  which  al 
ready  the  fondest  hopes  of  her  heart,  were  clustering.  It 
was  there  Volney's  mother  lived.  That  was  the  place  to 
which  he  shoukl  soon  return.  There,  perhaps,  she  would 
meet  him  again.  Perhaps — and  her  heart  gave  a  little 
throb  of  joy — it  might  be  her  home  with  him  some  day, 
too. 

What  was  the  dark  object  she  saw  moving  away  from 
the  house  and  coming  swiftly  down  to  the  pine  woods 
where  she  and  his  mother  had  met?  She  rose  from  her 
chair  and  eagerly  gazed  at  this  object.  To  her  keen  sight 
it  soon  revealed  itself  as  a  woman — a  woman  dressed  in 
black.  Was  it  his  mother?  How  she  longed  to  meet 
that  sweet,  gentle  woman  again  who  had  talked  so  kindly 
and  hopefully  to  her!  The  woman  had  disappeared  in 
the  woods  now,  but  as  Emily's  eyes  still  rested  with  a 
longing  and  loving  expression  on  the  spot  where  she  had 
vanished  she  saw  her  appear  again  a  few  moments  later. 
This  time  her  pace  was  even  quicker,  and  she  came  rapidly 
down  along  the  bank  of  the  brook  toward  the  willow 
copse.  Reaching  this,  she  stood  motionless,  evidently 
looking  intently  in  the  direction  of  Nicholas  Grundle's 
cottage.  The  watcher  by  the  window,  whose  heart  was 
loudly  beating  now,  thought  she  saw  the  woman  raise  her 
hand  with  a  beckoning  motion,  holding  some  small  white 
object  in  it.  Was  it  a  letter,  and  from  him  ?  And  was 
his  dear,  good  mother  bringing  it  to  her?  The  girl  could 
hardly  control  her  agitation.  These  questions  made  her 
heart  flutter  and  her  head  grow  dizzy.  What  should  she 


244  AS  IT  MAT  HAPPEN. 

do?  Already  her  knitting  had  fallen  upon  the  floor,  and 
she  stood  trembling  and  irresolute.  But  love  is  ever 
stronger  than  fear.  Although  every  hesitating  step  she 
took  was  made  harder  by  the  fear  of  her  father,  whose 
distant  tread  seemed  to  sound  in  her  ears  like  some  dread 
ful  warning,  she  reached  the  door  and  opened  it. 

The  woman  still  stood,  statue- like,  in  the  willow  copse. 
Nor  did  she  make  any  motion  of  recognition  as  Emily 
appeared  in  the  doorway.  Only,  as  before,  she  slowly 
raised  her  hand  with  the  white  parcel  in  it,  and  then,  low 
ering  her  arm,  outlined  the  object  more  visibly  against  the 
dark  background  of  her  dress.  Tins  she  did  several 
times;  then,  slowly  moving  to  the  fallen  tree-trunk,  she 
stooped  and  laid  the  white  thing  upon  it.  This  done  she 
looked  back  at  Emily,  turned  away,  and  went  on  across 
the  fields  in  the  direction  of  the  village.  At  this  moment 
Cassar,  who,  unknown  to  his  mistress,  had  been  an  atten 
tive  observer  of  this  pantomime,  darted  from  the  house. 
Before  the  girl  could  summon  her  voice  to  call  him  back 
he  had  reached  the  willow  copse,  and  was  already  bound 
ing  toward  her  with  something  white  between  his  teeth. 
Leaping  upon  the  step,  he  laid  an  envelope  at  her  feet 
with  a  joyous  bark,  as  if  he  knew  how  happy  its  posses 
sion  would  make  her.  For  a  moment  she  could  only  fall 
upon  her  knees,  and  with  hands  convulsively  clasped  gaze 
down  upon  it,  reading  its  superscription  with  eyes  suffused 
with  tears  of  joy.  Xo  need  to  tell  her  this  was  a  letter 
from  him.  She  would  have  known  his  writing  had  she 
seen  it  anywhere  in  the  wide,  wide  world.  With  a  hesita 
tion  she  could  not  understand,  and  with  blushes  that  came 
she  knew  not  why,  she  put  out  her  hand  with  a  tender  ges 
ture  to  take  up  the  letter.  But  while  her  hand  was  hover 
ing  over  it,  another  hand  than  hers,  wrinkled  and  bloodless 
— that  of  her  father  she  saw  it  was — reached  over  her 
shoulder  and  plucked  the  letter  from  her  very  grasp. 


STUEDY  LOVE  NOT  SO  EASILY  REPULSED.  245 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

STURDY  LOVE  NOT  SO  EASILY  REPULSED. 

WITH  the  first  consciousness  of  requited  love  a  woman 
enfolds  herself  in  a  sweet  reserve  and  tender  mys 
tery.  Wishing  to  conceal  her  sacred  happiness  from  the 
rude  gaze  of  the  world,  she  wraps  her  face  and  heart  in 
the  veil  of  secrecy,  and  in  the  sweet  nurture  of  silence 
watches  with  breathless  joy  the  growth  of  her  passion, 
filling  the  soul  with  a  rapture  too  precious  for  expression. 
On  the  contrary,  a  man,  as  soon  as  he  has  found  out  that 
his  love  has  been  successful,  suddenly  loses  the  reticence 
of  manner  which  characterized  the  pursuit  of  the  object 
of  his  affections.  His  smiling  face  and  confident  bearing 
plainly  tell  the  world,  always  curious  enough  in  such  mat 
ters,  that  he  is  no  longer  in  doubt — that  pursuit  has  ended 
in  possession,  the  heart  of  his  choice  has  been  won. 

So  it  was  with  Rader  Craft.  No  sooner  had  he  left  the 
Green  Tree  Inn,  where  Dibbs  had  assured  him  of  the  ex 
tremely  favorable  reception  of  his  letter  by  Aziel  Loyd, 
than  he  began  to  walk  with  an  air  of  spruceness  and  an 
elasticity  or  step  that  made  him  look  ten  years  younger. 
And  his  countenance — how  it  beamed  !  Always  smiling, 
it  was  now  a  benediction  on  every  one  he  passed,  as  if  he 
were,  saying  from  the  depths  of  his  generous  heart,  "  God 
bless  you,  fellow-travelers !  May  you  be  as  happy  as  I 
am  !"  ' 

Yet  not  one  of  those  he  met  guessed  the  real  cause  of 
the  gratification  which  this  morning  enveloped  him  in 
such  an  atmosphere  of  benignity  and  salubrious  kindness. 
To  be  sure,  he  had  always  borne  himself  toward  the  people 
of  Slowville  Avith  a  gracious  and  affectionate  manner.  He 
had  been  a  friend  to  the  fatherless,  a  consoler  of  widows 
and  an  adviser  in  all  good  works,  temporal  and  spiritual. 
But  to-day  his  great  heart  seemed  unable  to  restrain  the 
most  pronounced  exhibition  of  his  tenderness  and  good 
will.  He  stooped  on  his  way  to  his  office  and  kissed  a 
little  child,  holding  it  in  his  arms  with  such  a  paternal 
caress  that  the  action  brought  the  tears  to  the  eyes  of  Mrs, 

21  * 


246  AS  IT  J/.1F  HAPPEN. 

Boozer,  who  was  fondly  watching  him  from  behind  the 
curtain  of  her  room.  A  step  farther  on  he  patted  an 
orphan  boy  upon  the  head  and  put  into  his  hand  a  silver 
piece  that  sparkled  bright  as  Mrs.  Boozer's  tears.  Again 
he  halted  to  speak  cheering  words  to  one  of  the  town  poor, 
•\vlio  had  come  in  from  the  almsbouse  on  an  errand  to  the 
village  store.  Oh,  he  could  gather  all  the  world  into  his 
warm  embrace  to-day ! 

"  What  a  seraph  he  is!  A  perfect  cherubim!" said  Mrs. 
Boozer  with  a  hysterical  sob.  "Oh,  if  Boozer  had  been 
like  him,  how  I  could  a-loved  him  !  Yes,  Rader  Craft, 
you  are  an  angel ;  you  only  need  wings  for  to  waft  you  to 
the  spirits-land.'' 

Neither  Mrs.  Boozer,  who  was  a  woman  who  prided  her 
self  "on  finding  out  things,"  nor  any  of  those  he  had  met 
this  morning,  had  any  idea  of  the  cause  of  the  lawyer's 
exuberant  friendship,  so  conspicuously  and  variously  dis 
played;  and  he  went  into  his  office  carrying  his  joyous 
secret  with  him,  though  he  wished  every  soul  in  Slowville 
knew  it  this  very  day — ay,  this  very  hour.  Giving  vent 
to  his  happiness  in  a  series  of  ponderous  sighs,  he  sank 
into  his  chair.  He  folded  his  hands  with  a  complacent 
smile  and  gazed  up  at  the  ceiling,  murmuring  Aziel's  name 
in  softest  tones,  his  fat  lips  pressed  in  the  semblance  of  a 
passionate  kiss.  A  long  time  he  sat  thus  in  a  delicious 
reverie,  as  if  he  were  drinking  in  the  nectar  of  the  fabled 
gods  and  breathing  the  soft  and  rich  perfume  of  the  Elysian 
fields,  his  soul  floating  in  an  atmosphere  of  ethereal  bliss. 
AVhat  was  the  law  to  him  now?  or  the  sordid  things  of 
earth — its  bickerings  and  its  quarrels,  its  fame  or  its  for 
tune?  He  was  in  love — in  love  with  a  woman  whose  an 
gelic  form  had  filled  his  heart  from  the  very  instant  his 
eyes  had  first  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  in  the  village  church. 
Ah  !  how  well  he  remembered  that  time  when  a  passing 
breeze,  like  the  breath  of  heaven  itself,  had  come  through 
the  window  above  the  pew  when;  she  was  sitting  and  tossed 
aside  her  veil !  It  was  then  he  saw  for  the  first  time  those 
heavenlv  eyes,  those  carnation  cheeks,  those  ruby  lips  and 
pearly  teeth.  It  was  only  a  moment  he  had  gazed  upon 
her  thus,  but  that  moment,  with  the  inspiration  of  love, 
had  instantaneously  pictured  upon  the  chamber  of  his  soul 


STURDY  LOVE  NOT  SO  EASILY  REPULSED.    247 

her  eternal  photograph.  And  now  she  was  his — his  de 
spite  the  long  months  of  doubt  and  anxiety  ;  his  after  so 
many  chilling  fears  that  she  would  be  lost  to  him  ;  for  he 
had  no  means  of  communicating  his  passion  to  her  save  by 
the  hasty  and  ravishing  glanee  of  his  eyes  as  they  peered 
through  her  veil  when  she  swept  past  him  into  the  church 
or  evaded  him  as  she  came  down  the  aisle.  Strange  he 
had  not  sooner  seen  that  her  avoidance  of  him  was  only  a 
womanly  reserve,  waiting  for  his  more  pronounced  ad 
vances — a  secret  sign  to  him  that  if  he  would  win  her  he 
must  woo  her  with  something  more  than  simple  and  fleet 
ing  looks  .of  admiration.  And  so  he  had.  Yes!  He  had 
stormed  the  citadel  of  her  heart  with  only  a  pen  for  his 
weapon,  and  had  taken  it  captive  by  a  few  plain  words. 
What  a  powerful  letter  that  was ! 

"Ah!  I  knew  she  could  not  resist  me,"  he  exclaimed 
with  a  jubilant  laugh,  rising  from  his  chair  and  stepping 
briskly  into  the  room  that  adjoined  his  office,  where  he 
began  to  survey  himself  leisurely  in  the  glass.  "  A  man 
of  position,  respectability  and  means  is  not  to  be  picked 
up  every  day  in  the  matrimonial  market  by  blushing 
maid,  lovely  woman  or  charming  widow.  Forty-five  and 
slightly  bald,"  running  his  hand  through  his  hair  and 
bringing  up  the  side  locks  over  his  smooth  crown. 
"  Well,  forty-five  is  young — ay,  the  vigorous  stage  of 
life.  As  for  baldness,  that  is  a  sign  of  hereditary  dispo 
sition  or  mental  activity — in  my  case,  both.  And  where 
could  you  find,  my  dear  Miss  Aziel  Loyd,  a  better  figure 
than  this — such  a  formation  of  anatomical  correctness  and 
physical  beauty?  Solid  and  well  proportioned,  a  subdued 
tendency  to  corpulency  giving  a  rounded  symmetry  of 
form.  Ah,  Craft,  you  lucky  rogue!"  giving  himself  a 
sly  poke  in  the  fatty  integument  that  covered  his  ribs; 
"  Nature  endowed  you  liberally  with  the  fascinating  pow 
ers  of  manly  vigor  and  beauty !  No  wonder  the  women 
of  Slowville  have  long  watched  you  as  the  most  delicious 
plum  in  the  hymeneal  garden.  Ladies,"  throwing  him 
self  proudly  back  and  glancing  about  him  with  a  look 
of  commiseration,  "I  am  sorry — ay,  deeply  grieved— to 
disappoint  your  aspirations.  I  would  there  were  more  of 
me,  that  by  a  kindly  division  of  myself  I  might  appease 


248  AS  IT  .MAY  HAPPEN. 

your  longings.  But  no  ;  it  cannot  be.  It  only  remain.1 
for  yon,  fair  dames,  to  lament  the  loss  of  him  who  could 
have  made  your  earth  a  paradise,  filling  your  hearts  with 
an  everlasting  anthem  of  joy.  Aziel  Loyd,  the  beautiful, 
the  glorious,  the  seraphic,  alone  possesses  that  heart  for 
which  you  have  hoped  and  sighed  in  vain  !" 

His  overflowing  feelings  somewhat  relieved  by  this 
apostrophe,  he  came  back  into  his  office.  He  tried  to 
take  up  his  duties  for  the  dav,  which,  consisted  in  the 
final  preparation  of  a  case  down  on  the  Court's  list  for 
trial  on  the  morrow.  It  was  useless  for  him  to  attempt 
to  study.  The  law,  precedents  and  evidence  in  the  case- 
jumbled  themselves  into  an  inextricable  mass.  The  tur 
gid  verbosity  of  statutes  and  opinions  finally  vanished 
into  Love's  lightest  fancies.  Aziel  Loyd's  face  gleamed 
up  at  him  from  every  page.  The  vanquishing  letter  he 
had  written  her,  and  which  she  had  read  with  the  in 
stinctive  revelation  of  her  heart,  ran  through  his  thoughts 
with  never-ceasing  and  musical  reiteration.  Thumpety- 
bump  went  his  heart.  Away  his  imagination  flew  witli 
him  to  the  farm-house,  and  with  a  thrill  of  delight  he 
pictured  himself  sitting  by  her  side.  He  poured  into  her 
listening  ears  the  wondrous  story  of  his  passion,  which, 
Minerva-like,  had  sprung  forth  from  his  soul  in  the  full 
vigor  of  supernatural  growth.  His  stars!  how  gracefully 
she  had  yielded  to  his  impetuous  assault!  He  felt  her 
soft  breath  upon  his  cheek  ;  he  heard  her  murmuring 
words  of  tenderness  like  the  cooing  of  a  frightened  dove; 
and  the  throbbing  of  her  heart,  which  lay  fluttering  with 
joy  upon  his  manly  breast,  made  his  own  heart  swell 
with  violent  expansions  of  happiness. 

In  this  and  similar  visions,  stretching  far  out  into 
matrimonial  life,  the  hours  sped  away.  The  study  of 
the  case  was  resumed  at  long  intervals,  but  was  soon  laid 
aside  again  for  musing  thoughts  of  love ;  and  now  the 
bell  of  the  village  church  rang  out  twelve  o'clock.  The 
dinner-hour  had  come,  yet  it  had  brought  to  him  other 
thoughts  than  simplv  gastronomic  ones.  The  lawver 
started  from  his  chair  with  a  frown  that  had  been  slow 
ly  gathering  on  his  face  this  last  half  hour. 

"Silence  that  dreadful  bell !"  he  exclaimed  with  a  dra- 


STURDY  LOVE  NOT  SO  EASILY  REPULSED.   249 

• 

matic  flourish  of  his  arm.  "  It  summons  me  to  a  most 
unpleasant  duty.  In  its  solemn  reverberations  I  hear  the 
knell  of  Mrs.  Boozer's  buried  hopes.  Ere  it  peals  again 
she  will  know  that  I.  am  lost  to  her — lost  for  ever  ! 
Would  that  I  could  intimate  to  her  the  impending  ca 
lamity  in  some  gentle  way,  so  that  when  it  comes  it  may 
fall  upon  her  bleeding  heart  with  less  crushing  weight. 
But  how  to  do  it?  Ay,  that  is  the  question  which  I 
must  now  decide.  To  longer  delay  were  cruelty  to  her 
and  injustice  to  myself." 

He  folded  his  arms  and  strode  up  and  down  the  room, 
his  head  bowed  and  his  smile  tinged  with  melancholy. 
No  tender-hearted  judge  sentencing  a  prisoner  to  death 
could  have  looked  more  grave  and  sad,  or  yet  more 
fearFess  of  his  duty. 

"A  long  while  ago  I  apprehended  this  result,"  he  said, 
at  length,  pensively  ;  "but  the  responsibility  for  this  mis 
fortune  rests  not  upon  me.  I  extended  to  her  apparent 
advances  no  encouragement,  nor  did  I  ever  toy  in  pleasing 
dalliance  with  the  strong  evidences  of  her  affection.  No, 
Ilader  Craft,  you  are  as  innocent  of  deceiving  her  widowed 
heart  as  the  new-born  babe  that  sleeps  for  the  first  time 
upon  its  mother's  bosom.  And  yet,  doubtless,  she  will 
blame  me  for  it  all,  and  call  me,  ere  to-morrow's  sun  has 
set,  a  base,  perfidious  wretch  ;  and  I  must  bear  her  scorn, 
though  I  deserve  it  not.  Ah  me !  what  misery  comes  to 
man  through  woman's  unsought  love  !" 

He  put  up  his  hands  with  a  despairing  gesture,  and  tak 
ing  his  hat  went  slowly  in  the  direction  of  the  Green  Tree 
Inn,  his  countenance  firm  and  resolute,  though  not  with 
out  a  touch  of  sympathy  lingering  in  his  solemn  eyes. 
Mrs.  Boo/er  was  waiting  for  him — yes,  watching  him 
through  the  thin  muslin  curtain  with  famishing  eyes,  as 
she  called  them.  Ever  ready  to  anticipate  the  sorrows 
of  his  lonely  life,  her  heart  was  instantly  touched  by 
his  dejected  air.  It  went  out  to  him  in  a  great,  gush 
ing  sigh. 

"  Poor,  dear  soul !"  she  murmured,  two  big  tears  slowly 
making  their  watery  lines  upon  her  cheeks;  "  how  awful 
lonesome  he  is !  No  one  to  love  him  !  Not  a  heart  he 
can  call  his  own !  Dear,  dear !  if  he  would  only  take 


250  AS  IT  MAY  IIAPPEX. 

mine!  Law  sakes !  I  wonder  he  don't  see  how  I  love 
him.  But  he's  so  innocent  about  women-folks,  the  dear, 
overgrown  Jamb!  I've  done  everything  to  show  him, 
since  lie's  been  a-boarding  here,  that  he  can  come  in  any 
time  he  wants  to  and  hang  up  his  hat  for  good.  But  he 
don't  seem  to  take.  How  different  from  Simon  Boozer 
lie  is!  Poor  Simon  hung  around  me  like  wax;  I 
couldn't  drive  him  away  with  a  club." 

The  lawver  rapped  upon  the  door.  It  was  a  heavy 
solitary  rap  he  gave,  which  sounded  to  him  like  a  min 
iature  crack  of  doom  for  the  woman  he  was  so  soon  to 
confront.  Mrs.  Boozer  pressed  love's  copious  distilla 
tion  from  her  eyes,  pinched  her  cheeks  for  color,  and 
tried  to  smile  with  her  twitching,  quivering  lips.  She 
could  not  summon  her  tremulous  voice  to  bid  him  enter, 
though  her  famishing  eyes  yearned  for  a  sight  of  his 
fascinating  form.  Hesitating,  blushing  and  confused  she 
stood,  her  two  hands  pressed  upon  her  heart,  her  eyes 
bent  upon  the  floor  with  a  maiden's  timid  glance.  He 
opened  the  door  and  came  in  with  a  deliberate  step. 
With  a  measured  tread  he  crossed  the  room  and  hung 
his  hat  upon  the  peg.  He  started  a  trifle,  for  on  the 
peg  adjoining  this  one  was  her  bonnet  and  shawl.  Then 
he-turned  slowly  around  and  lifted  his  eyes,  and  looked, 
not  at  her,  standing  so  patiently  at  the  window,  but  at  the 
dinner-table. 

She  gave  a  little  cough  and  advanced  a  step  or  two,  then 
suddenly  stood  still  ;  for  the  cold,  stolid  look  he  cast  her, 
his  bare  nod  of  recognition  and  his  frigid  smile  chilled 
her  heart  to  its  very  core. 

"Is  dinner  ready,  Mrs.  Boozer?  I  regret  I  have  kept 
you  waiting,''  he  said,  drawing  out  his  accustomed  chair, 
his  eyes  steadily  iixed  on  the  smoking  leg  of  mutton, 
which  one  of  the  sisters  had  just  placed  upon  the  table, 
while  the  other  set  down  the  vegetable-dishes  in  tasteful 
array. 

"  I  can  always  wait  for  you,"  she  replied,  coming  for 
ward,  with  a  simper  ;  then,  as  if  suddenly  conscious  she 
had  spoken  too  boldly,  and  assuming  an  expression  of 
would-be  delicate,  womanly  modesty,  she  added,  stam 
mering  and  blushing  red  as  the  crimson  tie  at  her  throat, 


STURDY  LOVE  NOT  SO  EASILY  REPULSED.    251 

''I  mean  I'm  always  ready — for — you — Mr.  Craft.     It's 
no  trouble  to  wait — for  you." 

"Ah,  indeed  !"  and  the  lawyer's  face  grew  ominously 
calm.  "Then,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  express  myself 
with  something  of  a  rhetorical  flourish,  you  arc  pleased, 
Mrs.  Boozer,  to  exercise  in  rny  behalf  woman's  noblest 
prerogatives — watching  and  waiting.  Such  being  the  case, 
my  clear  madam,  pray  be  seated,  and  watch  my  abilities 
as  a  carver  and  wait  for  some  tangible  result  there 
from." 

With  the  frigidity  of  his  smile  a  trifle  relaxed,  he  waved 
her  to  her  seat,  and  taking  his  own  chair  with  solemn 
silence  began  to  carve.  But  never  once  did  he  look  up 
at  the  two  melting  eyes  that  watched  him  across  the 
table. 

"  Has  anything  wrong  happened  to  you  this  morn 
ing,  Mr.  Craft  ?"  she  asked  in  a  timid  voice  as  he  pro 
ceeded  with  his  meal  in  a  silence  she  knew  was  very 
unusual. 

"  Why  do  you  propound  that  proposition  ?"  he  replied, 
his  eyes  still  fixed  upon  his  plate.  "Does  my  deport 
ment  indicate  that  I  am  the  objective  receptacle  of  any 
calamity  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  Please  don't  talk  to 
me  in  them  big  words  ;  they  hurt  my  feelings,  and  they're 
hurt  enough  now,  with  you  a-aeting  so  cold  to  me,  as 
if  we  \vas  strangers ;"  and  there  was  a  sad  reproach 
and  tender  pleading  in  her  voice  that  warned  him  no 
longer  to  delay  in  turning  her  heart  for  ever  away  from 
all  contemplation  of  him. 

He  suddenly  looked  full  in  her  face.  He  was  about  to 
speak  freely  to  her,  but  her  warm,  ardent  gaze  checked 
him.  His  eyes  again  sought  his  plate,  and  he  studied  a 
while  how  best  to  turn  the  current  of  her  affections  with 
out  doing  sudden  violence  thereto.  At  last  he  laid  down 
his  knife  and  fork  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction,  and  said, 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Boozer,  you  asked  me  if  anything  wrong 
has  happened  to  me.  In  reply,  I  would  state  that  noth 
ing  wrong  has  this  clay  crossed  the  path  of  my  existence. 
Yet  I  cannot  deny  that  what  might  happen  to  me  are 
things  I  would  most  avoid,  while  things  I  most  desire 


252  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

might  not  happen  at  all.  Life,  you  are  well  aware,  is  a 
s  lason  of  desires  and  opportunities  by  no  means  coexist 
ent  or  running  parallel  with  one  another.  Our  existence 
is  mirrored  in  the  piscatorial  art — bait  and  no  fish,  or  fish 
and  no  bait.  Yes,  the  common  lot  of  man  is  disappoint 
ment.  He  sows  wisely  that  which  he  may  never  reap, 
and  reaps  wisely  that  which  he  never  sowed.  This  may 
l>;:  your  lot,  Mrs.  Boozer — it  may  be  mine.  But  whatever 
the  future  has  in  store  for  us,  let  us  bear  it  with  stout 
hearts,  even  as  Ajax  of  old  defied  the  lightning.  Alas, 
a 'as  !  that  the  sweetest  bee  should  have  a  sting — the  fairest 
flower  a  worm  !" 

"Them  is  sweet  words,"  she  sighed,  looking  at  him 
with  an  admiring  smile.  "I  just  love  to  hear  you  talk. 
Them  words  goes  right  to  my  heart.  I  think  a  great 
deal  of  what  you  say,  Mr.  Craft.  I  know  what  a  good 
man  you  are." 

Her  voice  quivered  and  her  eyes  fell  away  from  his 
with  a  bashful  glance. 

"  Humph  !  whew !"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  abruptly 
rising  from  the  table  and  snatching  his  hat  from  the 
pcu1.  "  I  forgot.  There  is  a  client  waiting  for  me  at  the 
office." 

"  Can't  you  stay  and  have  some  pie?"  she  asked,  rising 
and  standing  in  front  of  him  in  her  most  beseeching  atti 
tude.  "It  is  the  lemon-pie  you  like.  I  made  it  myself 
for  you — " 

"  Xo,  no!"  he  interrupted,  growing  paler  every  instant, 
as  he  tried  to  push  by  her  and  release  the  detaining  hand 
she  had  put  upon  his  arm.  "  I  can't  wait  for  any  pie. 
I — I  must  hurry.  Some  other  time — " 

He  made  a  desperate  plunge  for  the  door. 

"Don't  pull  yourself  away  like  that.  It  hurts  my 
feelings — seems  as  if  you  was  angry  with  me,"  she 
pleaded,  still  holding  his  arm  as  he  sprang  across  the 
floor.  li  Can't  you  bid  me  good-bye  with  them  soft  words 
you  used  to  use?" 

He  stopped.  His  head  was  giddy,  his  knees  shook  and 
his  heart  seemed  standing  still.  Was  he  between  the 
strong  horns  of  that  terrible  thing,  a  mental  dilemma? 
Would  she  never  let  him  2:0?  or  would  she  then  and 


SOMETHING    UNFORESEEN  OCCURS.  253 

there  force  him  to  an  acceptance  of  her  love  and  call 
in  her  sisters  to  witness  the  compact? 

"Well,  I  won't  keep  you  any  longer  now,"  he  heard 
her  saying,  her  face  looking  tip  so  close  to  his  frightened 
eyes.  "At  supper  we  will  talk  this  matter  all  over.  I 
know  what  you  mean,  and  I'll  help  you  say  it.  Here's  a 
bunch  of  red  roses,"  she  went  on,  fumbling  at  his  coat. 
"  I  raised  them  for  you  on  that  bush  in  the  window 
yonder.  But  they  ain't  a  bit  handsomer  nor  sweeter 
than  you  yourself,  and  I  ain't  ashamed  to  tell  you  so." 

A  moment  later  the  lawyer  found  himself  in  the  open 
air  and  going  on  a  dead  run  to  his  office.  Into  this  he 
rushed  as-  if  closely  pursued.  Locking  the  door,  he  sank 
breathless  into  his  chair.  As  his  head  fell  limply  upon 
his  breast  he  saw,  with  a  shudder,  three  red  roses  pinned 
in  a  bunch  upon  the  lappel  of  his  coat. 

"  Ah  !"  he  sighed,  "  how  powerless  is  man  against  female 
machinations !  It's  not  an  easy  matter  to  tell  a  woman 
you  do  not  love  her,  neither  can  you  subdue  her  affections 
by  the  might  of  your  indifference." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

IN   WHICH  SOMETHING    UNFORESEEN  OCCURS. 


girl  for  an  instant  kneeled  trembling  and  affright- 
_L  ed  at  her  father's  feet,  though  her  eyes  never  once 
left  the  letter,  the  superscription  of  which  he  was  now 
examining  with  a  deepening  frown.  Then,  as  he  made 
a  motion  with  his  hands  as  if  to  tear  it  in  pieces,  she 
uttered  a  cry  of  dismay,  and  springing  up  caught  his 
arm. 

"  Do  not  tear  it  !  Please  let  me  have  it,  father  dear  !" 
she  pleaded,  eagerly  putting  out  her  hand  and  trying  to 
grasp  the  letter,  which  he  held  out  of  her  reach  with  a 
little  mocking  laugh. 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  tear  it  into  shreds  before  either  of 
us  can  read  it,"  he  muttered,  shaking  his  head  threaten 
ingly  at  the  letter  and  then  reproachfully  at  her.  "  But 

22 


254  AS  IT  MAY  IIAPPKX. 

no;  I  will  not,"  putting  her  clinging  arms  gentlv  away 
from  lu's  neck.  "We  will  both  read  it,  and  you  .-hail 
read  it  first.  See!  I  can  trust  you,  even  if  you  cannot 
trust  me." 

He  thrust  the  letter  into  her  hand  and  went  back  into 
the  house,  closing  the  door,  and  leaving  her  alone  with 
her  treasure  in  her  hands,  that  trembled  so  she  could 
hardly  hold  the  missive  steadily  enough  to  read  again  her 
name,  that  Yolney  had  written.  At  last,  slowly  sinking 
upon  the  step,  where  Ca?sar  nestled  beside  her,  she  laid 
the  letter,  still  unopened,  in  her  lap,  and  gazed  fondly 
down  upon  it.  These  were  delicious  moments  of  hesita 
tion.  It  was  his  rirst  letter  to  her.  In  it  were  words  his 
loving  hand  alone  had  traced.  There  were  so  many  things 
she  hoped  he  might  have  written — there  was  so  much  he 
might  tell  her  of  his  still  true  love — that  she  dare  not  yet 
break  the  seal  for  fear  that  that  for  which  her  heart  was 
hoping  was  not  within  those  precious  folds. 

Still  delaying  to  open  it,  she  pressed  the  little  package 
to  her  heart  and  covered  it  with  many  tender  kisses,  feel 
ing  all  the  more,  as  his  cherished  image  floated  distinct 
in  the  mist  of  her  eyes,  that  in  this  secret  messenger  his 
heart  had  indeed  come  back  to  her.  When  at  last  she 
had  opened  the  letter  and  read  it  with  a  heart  that  throbbed 
and  fluttered  at  every  word,  she  could  have  cried  for  very 
joy.  She  did,  too,  the  tears  falling  faster  than  she  could 
brush  them  away  from  eyes  that  read  again  and  again  his 
loving  words,  which  grew  richer  and  deeper  in  meaning 
as  she  repeated  them  in  gentle  whispers.  How  full  to 
overflowing  was  her  soul !  Its  happiness  was  like  some 
great  burden,  which  she  felt  herself  too  weak  alone  to 
bear.  She  must  run  and  tell  her  father.  He  must  share 
her  joy  with  her,  and  make  it  more  tranquil  by  his  shar 
ing.  He  would  be  so  glad  to  know  that  what  he  had 
prophesied  had  all  come  true.  For  had  he  not  told  her 
that  her  lover  would  yet  come  back  to  her?  In  her  ecsta 
sy  of  happiness  she  caught  Caesar's  head  in  her  arms  and 
told  him  far  more  of  her  secret  than  he  could  understand, 
though  he  wagged  his  tail  and  looked  so  knowing. 

Then  she  ran,  with  the  open  letter  in  her  hand,  in  search 
of  her  father,  her  lips  parted  with  a  little  smile  of  triumph, 


SOMETHING  UNFORESEEN  OCCURS.  255 

Avhile  her  eyes,  flashing  with  delight,  vied  in  brilliancy 
with  the  flushing  tide  that  glowed  upon  her  cheeks.  She 
found  him  sitting  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  in  his  old  arm 
chair,  with  her  stool  beside  it.  He  did  not  turn  his  head 
as  she  entered  nor  look  up  at  her  as  she  bounded  toward 
him  and,  throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck,  laid  the  letter 
in  his  lap. 

"  Read  it,  father  dear,"  she  murmured  with  a  touch  of 
fear  in  her  voice,  for  her  manner  had  suddenly  lost  its  joy- 
ousness  as  she  saw  how  grave  and  silent  he  was.  "It 
is  just  as  you  said.  He  has  asked  me  to — to  forgive 
him." 

He  took  up  the  letter  with  seeming  indifference,  motion 
ing  her  to  sit  beside  him.  She  did  so,  looking  into  his 
face  with  a  mingled  expression  of  childish  trust  and  ap 
prehension.  Never  once  did  his  eyes  turn  to  hers,  so  ques 
tion!  ngly  fixed  upon  him,  neither  did  he  utter  a  word.  He 
read  the  letter  in  perfect  silence  and  with  a  slow  attentive- 
ness,  but  no  opinion  as  to  its  contents  was  reflected  in  any 
feature  of  his  stolid  countenance. 

"  It  has  happened  as  I  said  it  would,"  he  quietly  re 
marked,  slowly  refolding  the  missive  and  handing  it  back 
to  her.  "He  has  asked  you  to  forgive  him;  and  you  will, 
I  suppose?"  for  the  first  time  turning  his  keen  gray  eyes 
upon  her  with  something  of  an  expression  of  pity  gleam 
ing  through  their  cold  gaze. 

"  Oh,  I  could  forgive  him  a  thousand  times!"  she  replied 
Avith  an  enthusiasm  as  free  and  artless  as  herself,  clasping 
the  letter  with  a  passionate  gesture  to  her  bosom.  "  If  he 
will  only  love — " 

Her  voice  died  away  and  she  was  suddenly  silent. 
His  quick  frown  had  checked  her  utterance  and  driven 
back  from  her  lips  the  eager  words  she  would  have 
spoken. 

"What  is  love?"  he  said  with  a  low,  cynical  laugh, 
speaking  more  to  himself  than  to  her.  "It  is  ice  with 
the  sun  on  it,  honey  mingled  with  gall,  a  pleasure  that 
comes  and  goes  with  pain.  What  is  woman's  love?  It 
is  a  breath  that  changes  quicker  than  the  wind.  And 
man's?  He  breaks  his  vows  with  the  parting  kiss  still 
warm  upon  his  lips.  And  so  you  think  he  loves  you?'' 


256  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPKX. 

looking  half  sorrowfully  clown  upon  her  upturned  face, 
that  lay  upon  his  knee. 

"Something  tells  me  that  he  docs,"  she  faltered,  droop 
ing  her  eyes  away  from  him  and  blushing  deeply  at  the 
words  that  had  escaped  her  lips. 

"The  old  story!"  he  said,  slowly  rising  from  his  chair 
and  resting  his  hand  with  a  gentle  pressure  upon  her  head. 
"When  love  comes  in  at  the  door,  judgment  flies  out  of 
the  window.  I  shall  not  chide  you  further,  child.  It's 
not  your  fault  that  your  innocent  heart  believes  in  him. 
But  do  not  trust  him  more  than  you  do  me.  Words  are 
the  cheapest  gifts  the  heart  can  olfer.  True  love,  such  as 
my  child  deserves,  was  not  born  in  a  day.  It  is  the  growth 
of  years.  So  let  us  wait  and  see.  Nothing  is  ever  lost  by 
patient  waiting,  especially  in  these  matters  of  the  heart." 

He  kissed  her  and  pressed  her  to  his  breast.  Without 
a  word  beyond  the  utterance  of  a  heavv  sigh,  that  nearly 
shaped  itself  in  articulate  regret,  he  shuffled  across  the 
room.  He  took  up  his  gun,  unlocked  the  cellar-door,  and 
disappeared  through  the  dark  entrance,  a  lighted  candle  in 
his  hand,  bolting  the  door  after  him.  The  girl,  with  a 
tinge  of  sadness  in  her  smile,  put  the  letter  into  her 
bosom  with  a  soft  kiss,  and  with  her  face  clasped  in  her 
hands  sat  gazing  into  the  fire,  flickering  now  as  unsteadily 
as  her  hopes,  which  but  a  moment  since  were  bright  as 
any  flame  that  had  ever  darted  up  this  chimney-place. 
She  had  come  to  her  father  to  share  her  happiness,  and  he 
had  thrown  a  shadow  over  it  all.  This  letter,  which  to 
her  was  the  written  voice  of  pure  and  earnest  love,  her 
father  had  read  without  a  word  of  praise  for  him  who  had 
penned  it.  Xor  was  this  all.  She  saw  with  deeper  pain 
that  he  did  not  believe  in  her  lover.  He  thought  him 
fickle  and  false,  and  his  affection  for  her  something  that 
would  slowly  fade  away  in  his  heart,  while  it  grew  bright 
er  and  stronger  in  her  own.  Could  this  be  so  ?  She 
asked  the  question  with  a  hesitancy  of  fear  that  made  her 
cheeks  grow  pale  and  her  lips  tremble  as  they  gave  whisper 
ed  voice  to  the  words.  Only  for  an  instant  was  there  doubt. 
Hope,  that  ever  faithful  ally  of  Love,  came  to  the  rescue 
of  her  wavering  thoughts,  and  made  them  strong  again  in 
faith.  He  forget  her — cease  to  love  her  ?  Xo,  no  !  Sh<" 


SOMETHING  UNFORESEEN  OCCURS.  257 

. 

could  not,  would  not,  believe  it.     He,  so  good  and  noble 
and  true,  prove  false  ?     His  love  like  that  of  other  men  ? 

The  calm,  confident  smile  that  illumined  her  face  gave 
answer.  The  faithful  love  filling  her  soul  poured  forth  its 
protest  in  the  resolute  pressure  of  her  lips  and  the  steady 
look  of  her  eyes,  as  if,  though  all  the  world  should  doubt 
him,  she  would  never,  never  think  him  false. 

Meanwhile,  Nicholas  Grundle  busied  himself  in  the 
cellar,  working  with  quiet,  stealthy  movements.  He  had 
pulled  the  box  away  from  the  wall  and  removed  the  stone. 
From  the  cavity  behind  it  he  had  taken  several  small 
thick  bags  securely  tied,  which  he  placed  in  a  little  pile 
upon  the  floor.  He  seated  himself  upon  a  small  box,  the 
candle  on  one  side,  his  gun  on  the  other,  and  began  to 
open  each  bag  and  examine  its  contents.  In  most  of  these 
pouches  was  gold,  in  a  few  silver,  and  in  a  single  one  were 
notes.  It  took  him  a  long  time  to  count  over  his  treas 
ure,  fingering  every  piece  as  he  did,  and  holding  on  to  it 
with  a  hesitating  motion  as  he  put  it  out  of  his  sight  into 
the  receptacle  where  it  belonged.  Two  hours  thus  passed 
away,  yet  so  pleasant  was  his  occupation  that  not  once  did 
his  busy  fingers  stop,  nor  the  smile  on  his  face  relax  its 
intensity  of  greed  and  cunning.  It  was  only  when  he 
had  refilled  the  pouches,  tied  them  again  and  put  them  all 
into  a  larger  bag  that  he  rested  for  a  moment,  holding  the 
sack  between  his  knees  and  patting  it  with  a  gesture  of 
endearment.  Rising  at  last  he  put  this  sack  into  the  cav 
ity  of  the  wall,  placed  the  stone  in  position,  pushed  the 
box  into  its  place,  and  laid  the  straws  upon  its  edges. 
This  done,  he  listened  intently  for  a  moment,  then  as 
cended  the  stairs,  and  locking  the  cellar-door  put  the  key 
into  his  pocket. 

Seating  himself  at  the  table  for  dinner,  which  had  been 
ready  for  him  a  long  while,  he  ate  his  meal  in  unusual 
silence,  saying  little  beyond  muttering  at  the  rain,  which 
was  beating  steadily  against  the  windows,  with  the  prom 
ise  of  a  long  storm  in  the  heavy,  leaden  sky.  Emily  en 
deavored  to  rouse  his  spirits,  for  she  readily  imagined  that 
she  was  the  cause  of  his  depression.  Try  as  she  would — 
and  it  was  so  easy  now  for  her  to  be  happy,  with  her  heart 
so  full  of  hope  and  love — he  only  returned  the  shortest 
22  *  n 


258  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

* 

answers  to  her,  and  finally  left  the  table.  Seating  him 
self  by  the  window  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  village 
road,  he  told  her  not  to  disturb  him.  Leaning  forward 
close  to  the  dripping  pane,  he  gazed  steadily  down  the 
distant,  road,  which  was  now  and  then  lost  to  his  vision  in 
the  mist  of  the  storm.  Two  hours  thus  passed,  then  three 
and  four;  still  the  one  he  was  looking  for  did  not  come. 
Yet  all  this  while  he  did  not  once  leave  his  seat  by  the 
window  or  speak  to  the  girl,  who  sat  knitting  by  the  fire 
place,  her  happy  face  reflecting  the  sweet  and  tender  mus 
ings  of  her  heart.  When  at  length  the  little  clock  had 
struck  five,  and  the  road  had  grown  less  and  less  defined 
in  the  waning  daylight,  Nicholas  Grundle  rose  reluctant 
ly  from  his  seat.  He  began  to  close  the  shutters,  bowing 
his  head  to  the  storm  with  muttered  imprecations  that 
made  Emily  tremble  as  she  ran  to  his  aid. 

"  Were  you  expecting,  that  man,  father?"  she  asked 
when  the  last  shutter  had  been  secured  and  he  stood 
shaking  the  rain  from  the  sleeves  of  his  coat  into  the  fire. 
"  I  am  sorry  you  are  disappointed,"  pushing  back  the  wet 
locks  from  his  forehead.  "But  it  may  clear  off  by  night. 
Perhaps  he  will  come  then." 

"  You  need  not  set  the  table,"  he  said  as  she  turned 
away  from  him,  standing  there  in  long  silence,  his  hands 
folded  in  front  of  him  and  his  eyes  moodily  fixed  on  the 
fire.  "  I  want  no  supper.  You  can  eat  a  bowl  of  bread 
and  milk  in  the  pantry  yonder.  Make  haste;  for  if  he 
should  come,  you  must  be  ready  to  go  to  your  room. 
Your  face  is  not  for  him  to  look  at.  'Twere  best  hid 
den  in  your  pillow  if  he  be  here." 

Shaking  his  head  with  little  vehement  nods,  he  fixed 
himself  in  the  old  arm-chair  where  his  eyes,  should  he 
raise  them,  would  fall  upon  the  valise,  the  cellar  and  the 
outer  door.  It  was  no  casual  gaze  he  bent,  in  slow  succes 
sion,  upon  each  of  these  objects.  There  was  a  varying  ex- 
preasion  in  his  countenance,  yet  it  lost  none  of  its  intensity 
of  cunning  or  hope  or  fear  or  disappointment  as  he  looked 
from  one  to  the  other,  turning  uneasily  in  his  seat  at  times, 
and  listening  alertly  for  some  other  sound  than  that  of 
the  tumult  of  the  storm.  Never  once  did  he  speak  to  the 
girl,  who  long  since  had  crept  to  his  side  with  her  stool, 


SOMETHING  UNFORESEEN  OCCURS.  259 

and  sat  quietly  working  with  the  flying  needles  that  kept 
rhythm  with  the  swift  current  of  her  happy  thoughts.  Her 
tranquil  face  was  in  strong  contrast  to  the  one  above  it, 
that  alternated  between  impatient  frowns  and  the  deeper 
shadows  of  disappointment.  Her  lips  seemed  to  shape 
themselves  in  words  of  tenderness.  His  never  moved, 
save  now  and  then  to  give  forth  a  slowly-muttered  ex 
clamation  of  disgust  as  the  storm  beat  with  greater  force 
against  the  cottage,  making  it  tremble  and  shake  as  if  the 
wind  were  seeking  its  weakest  place  to  hurl  it  down.  The 
time  passed  in  silence  between  these  two.  It  went  fast  to 
her,  so  full  of  endless  visions  of  joy  in  the  future.  Slow 
ly  to  him  "the  moments  drew  themselves  along,  when  he 
had  so  much  to  gain,  so  much  to  lose. 

Tlie  clock  struck  eight.  The  sound  of  its  little  bell  was 
scarcely  audible  above  the  roar  of  the  wind  and  the  beating 
torrent  of  rain,  more  furious  now,  for  the  tempest  had  this 
night  summoned  to  its  aid  all  the  powers  of  the  air  and 
sky,  making  the  earth  tremble  and  cower  beneath  its 
mighty  tread.  Suddenly  there  came  a  furious  blast  that 
made  the  cottage  rock  as  if  in  the  throes  of  an  earth 
quake.  Another  instant,  and  something  fell  with  a  crash 
upon  the  roof.  With  a  cry  of  terror  the  girl  dropped 
her  knitting  and  clung  to  her  father,  her  white  lips 
speechless  with  fear,  but  he  sat  unmoved  and  calm. 

"It  is  only  the  chimney,"  he  said  with  a  grim  smile  as 
the  bricks  came  rattling  down  upon  the  ground  under  the 
nearest  window.  "  Let  the  wind  blow  it  over.  It  makes 
no  difference  to  me.  Somebody  besides  myself  will  have 
to  put  that  chimney  up  again.  But  it  is  a  good  omen  for 
us,  my  child"/'  giving  her  a  reassuring  pat  upon  the  head. 
"Why?  do  you  ask.  I'll  tell  you  to-morrow — that  is, 
if- 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  for  in  the  lull  that  had 
come  in  the  storm  Cassar  had  heard  something  without  that 
made  him  spring  from  his  watch  beside  the  valise  to  the 
door,  where  he  stood  growling  with  his  nose  snuffing  along 
the  sill. 

"  Yes,  he  is  coming,"  whispered  Nicholas  Grundle,  rising 
nervously  in  his  chair  and  bending  forward  in  a  listening 
attitude.  "I  thought  the  storm  would  not  keep  him  away. 


260  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN 

Hist!  Those  are  his  footsteps.  Hurry  to  your  room.  To 
morrow  you  shall  know  all ;  but,  mind  me,  do  not  listen 
to-night."  She  hesitated  to  go,  catching  her  father's  arm 
as  if  she  could  not  leave  him.  The  old  look  of  appre 
hension  had  come  back  to  her  face,  more  vivid  now  as  the 
short,  heavy  raps  sounded  upon  the  door  and  the  man's 
voice  called  loudly  for  admittance. 

"  Go  to  your  room,  I  say,  and  shut  the  door,"  he  mut 
tered,  quickly  pushing  the  girl  from  him.  "  Would  you 
spoil  all,  you  silly  child?" 

She  hurried  away  from  him,  looking  so  angrily  at  her, 
and  fled  up  the  stairs  to  her  own  room.  Here,  closing  the 
door,  she  stood  trembling  in  the  darkness,  a  fear  upon  her 
she  could  not  dispel.  Her  father  might  trust  this  man, 
but  ever  since  she  had  caught  that  first  glimpse  of  his 
wicked  face  it  had  haunted  her  with  a  suggestion  of  evil. 
What  had  brought  him  here  to-night  in  such  a  storm  ? 
Why  did  he  always  come  in  the  night?  What  had  he  to 
conceal  from  the  light  of  day?  If  she  did  but  dare  to 
listen  and  hear  his  errand,  she  could  then  tell  whether  he 
was  deceiving  her  father,  who  had  put  such  sudden  trust 
in  him.  But  no ;  she  had  promised  her  father  not  to 
listen.  She  would  wait  until  to-morrow,  when  he  would 
tell  her  all  and  explain  the  mystery  of  this  man's  com 
ing.  Meanwhile,  the  miser  had  called  away  the  dog  and 
opened  the  door,  admitting  the  man,  who  entered  drench 
ed  with  rain,  holding  a  torn  and  broken  umbrella  in  his 
hands. 

"  A  very  wet  night,  friend  Grundle.  Something  on  the 
order  of  a  second  deluge,"  he  said,  tossing  the  umbrella 
on  the  floor  by  the  valise  and  throwing  aside  his  dripping 
coat  and  hat. 

"Where  is  the  notary  ?"  asked  the  other,  peering  out 
into  the  darkness,  and  then  turning  to  his  companion  with 
a  look  of  disappointment. 

"  Bless  your  antiquated  soul !  you  don't  expect  a  notary 
to  come  out  to-night  for  a  dollar,  do  you  ?  Why,  I  wouldn't 
have  been  here  myself,  except  my  wav  home  lav  in  this  di 
rection.  I  thought  it  no  more  than  fair,  as  a  matter  of 
business,  to  stop  and  tell  you  that  the  notary  could  not 
come  until  to-morrow." 


SOMETHING  UNFORESEEN  OCCURS.  261 

"  Why  not  ?  Isn't  my  money  as  good  as  anybody's  ?" 
snarled  Grundle,  slamming  the  door  and  barring  it. 

"  All  his  time  was  engaged  for  to-day.  I'll  warrant  he 
has  been  giving  some  poor  client  the  benefit  of  the  law's 
delay.  But  come,  friend  Grundle,  don't  look  so  disap 
pointed.  No  matter  if  you  do  wait  until  to-morrow  for 
the  signing  of  the  deed,  you  have  got  the  best  of  a  sure 
bargain." 

"In  what  way,  I  would  like  to  knowr?"  muttered  the 
old  man,  following  his  companion,  who  had  crossed  the 
room  and  now  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  his  hands 
behind  him  and  his  smiling  face  bent  with  a  free-and-easy 
inclination  upon  the  other. 

"That  I  can  readily  answer.  But  if  you  will  keep 
this  dog  at  a  respectful  distance  from  my  anatomy,  I  shall 
be  much  obliged  to  you,  and  be  able  to  talk  with  much 
more  freedom,"  said  the  man,  suddenly  retreating  before 
the  mastiff,  who  was  walking  about  in  front  of  him  show 
ing  his  teeth  and  emitting  a  series  of  low  growls,  with  a 
threatening  look  in  his  steady  eyes. 

Nicholas  Grundle  seized  the  dog  by  his  stout  brass  col 
lar  and  dragged  him  to  the  farther  corner  of  the  room, 
fastening  him  by  the  collar  to  an  iron  chain  which  was 
secured  to  the  floor  by  a  staple. 

"  Much  obliged  !  I  feel  more  comfortable  now,"  re 
sumed  the  stranger  as  Cassar  silently  stretched  himself 
upon  the  floor  in  obedience  to  his  master,  and  lay  with 
his  head  between  his  paws.  UI  never  did  fancy  strange 
dogs,  and  this  one  of  yours  seems  determined  not  to  be 
friendly  with  me." 

"  You  are  safe  enough  from  him  now,"  interrupted 
Grundle ;  "  so  go  on  and  tell  me  how  I  have  got  the  best 
of  this  bargain,  and  how  it  is  sure,  when  it  cannot  be  com 
pleted  before  to-morrow." 

"Do  you  see  that  valise?"  replied  the  man,  seating 
himself  by  the  fireplace  and  mysteriously  nodding  in  the 
direction  of  the  valise  ;  then,  as  Grundle's  eyes  turned  to 
the  object,  he  added,  "  That  makes  your  bargain  sure." 

"  In  what  way  ?"  slowly  asked  the  miser.  "  It  is  neither 
yourself  nor  the  notary." 

"  Is  any  one  listening  ?"  whispered  the  man,  glancing 


262  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

nervously  around  the  room.  "  Your  daughter — where  is 
she  ?  Gin  she  hear  or  see  us  ?" 

"  She  is  abed,  and  was  asleep  long  ago." 

"  I  wish  I  were  sure  of  that." 

"  Why  ?     What  matters  it  to  you  ?" 

"  Because,"  replied  he  with  a  cautious  look,  "  if  I 
thought  we  were  safe  from  interruption  by  her,  I  would 
show  you  what  I  carry  in  that  valise.  The  sight  of  its 
contents  would  satisfy  you  that  I  mean  business  to-mor 
row,  I  know." 

"Go  on  and  open  it,  then.  I  give  you  my  word  she 
shall  neither  hear  nor  see  you.  I  have  her  promise  for 
that;"  and  the  old  man's  voice  and  manner  grew  suddenly 
confidential. 

"  I  wish  I  were  only  as  certain  of  our  secrecy  as  you 
are,"  continued  the  stranger  after  a  pause,  during  which 
he  had  been  listening  intently,  turning  his  head  in  all  di 
rections,  and  finally  fixing  his  gaze  upon  the  little  stair 
way.  "Would  you  object,"  he  went  on  in  a  low  voice, 
"  to  turning  the  key  in  her  door  ?  These  girls  are  often 
smart  beyond  their  years.  Deception  is  as  natural  to  them 
as  grace  and  shyness.  I  have  found  in  my  life  that  locks 
and  bolts  are  the  only  safeguards — and  they  not  always — 
against  a  woman's  curiosity." 

Nicholas  Grundlc  made  no  reply.  He  stood  irresolute 
a  moment.  Then  he  crept  softly  up  the  stairs. 

He  soon  returned,  bearing  in  his  hand  an  old  iron  key. 
This  he  held  in  front  of  the  man  with  a  cunning  smile, 
and  whispered, 

"  Let  her  be  asleep  or  awake,  she  cannot  open  the  door 
this  key  has  locked."  Then,  putting  it  in  his  pocket,  he 
added,  with  an  impatient  shrug  of  his  shoulders  at  the 
complacent  air  with  which  the  other  was  regarding  him, 
"  Come,  you  have  no  further  excuse  now,  if  you  intend  to 
open  the  valise." 

"  Sh  !  sh  !  friend  Grundle !  Not  so  loud.  I  have  known 
floors  to  have  ears,"  said  the  man,  stealthily  rising  from 
his  chair  and  taking  from  his  pocket  a  bunch  of  keys.  "  I 
hope  I  shall  have  better  luck  to-night  with  the  locks. 
Would  you  mind  holding  the  candle  for  me  ?" 

They  went  softly  over  to  the  valise,  both  evidently  un- 


SOMETHING  UNFORESEEN  OCCURS.  263 

der  great  excitement.  The  keys  rattled  in  the  man's  hand 
and  his  face  was  rapidly  growing  pale.  The  candle  trem 
bled  so  in  Grundle's  grasp  that  he  clutched  it  in  his  two 
hands,  and  held  it  so  close  to  him  that  his  excited  breath 
ing  almost  extinguished  it. 

"  Steady,  friend  Grundle!  Don't  be  so  excited/'  said 
his  companion,  who  had* thrown  aside  the  carpet  and  was 
already  kneeling  in  front  of  the  valise.  "Here!  Bring 
the  candle  lower ;  I  might  as  well  be  in  the  dark,  with 
you  standing  up  there  holding  the  light  above  your 
head.  Kneel  down  here  beside  me,  or  else  give  me  the 
candle  to  manage;"  and  he  put  out  his  hand  as  if  to 
take  it.  - 

Nicholas  Grundle  was  too  eager  to  catch  the  first 
glimpse  of  what  wras  in  the  valise  to  need  any  second 
command  to  come  nearer.  In  another  instant  he  had 
kneeled  beside  the  stranger,  and  was  holding  the  candle 
down  close  to  the  padlock,  which,  as  before,  was  offering 
some  impediment  to  the  stranger's  key. 

"  Your  hand  trembles  so  that  the  light  is  too  unsteady 
for  me  to  see  clearly,"  said  the  man.  "  Here !  I  can  do 
better  with  it  by  myself." 

He  took  the  candle  from  the  other's  hand,  and  turning 
his  back  to  him  apparently  fumbled  away  in  silence 
upon  the  lock.  Nicholas  Grundle  was  impatient  at  this 
delay.  He  crept  closer,  and  leaned  over  the  other's 
shoulder  to  see  what  he  was  doing.  Certainly  the  stran 
ger  was  not  trying  now  to  open  the  valise,  for  his  hands 
were  evidently  busy  with  something  hidden  beneath  his 
coat.  What  strange  though  agreeable  odor  was  this  that 
made  the  miser  recoil?  Why  did  he  look  with  terror- 
stricken  eyes  first  at  his  gun  and  then  at  the  dog,  both  so 
far  out  of  his  reach?  What  ailed  him  now  that,  para 
lyzed  with  fear,  he  could  neither  move  hand  nor  foot, 
only  give  one  feeble  cry  of — 

"Help,  Emily!  help!" 

The  other,  quick  as  a  flash,  had  put  the  candle  on  the 
floor.  Then  he  turned  as  suddenly  upon  the  miser,  and 
with  a  low,  devilish  laugh  caught  him  around  the  neck. 
Stifling  into  a  deathly  gurgle  his  victim's  cry  for  help,  he 
covered  his  nose  and  mouth  with  a  thick  white  cloth  and 


264  AS  IT  J/.1 1"  HAPPEN. 

pressed  him,  resisting  less  and  less,  slowly  back  upon  the 
floor. 

The  girl  in  the  room  above  had  heard  this  cry  for  help. 
Single  and  hoarse  and  faint  though  it  was,  it  had  fallen 
upon  her  ears  with  a  power  as  startling  as  if  it  had  been 
uttered  beside  the  bed,  whereon  she  had  but  a  moment 
before  laid  herself,  cowering  with^,  fear  of  evil  that  made 
every  sense  alert  with  alarm. 

She  leaped  to  her  feet  and  sprang  to  the  door,  her 
movements  as  swift  as  the  suspicion  of  villainy  that 
flashed  through  her  mind.  Her  father  crying  for  help  ! 
Was  the  man  murdering  him?  Awful  suggestion — one  to 
make  the  stoutest  heart  quail !  But  it  made  her  frame  vibrate 
with  strength  and  thrilled  her  with  a  courage  so  resolute 
that  all  fear  for  herself  was  lost  in  her  determination  to 
go  to  her  father's  rescue,  though  she  should  go  to  her  own 
death  besides.  With  desperate  energy  she  seized  the 
latch  and  pulled  against  the  door,  for  the  fierce  barking 
of  the  dog  and  the  muttering  angry  voice  of  the  man 
warned  her  that  a  deadly  struggle  was  going  on,  in  which 
a  moment  more  her  aid  might  be  too  late.  The  door 
would  not  open;  it  was  locked.  With  a  cry  of  dismay, 
which  might  well  have  served  for  the  echo  of  the  one  the 
old  man  had  so  recently  made,  she  remembered  that  her 
father  had  locked  this  door  a  little  while  ago,  whispering 
to  her  that  he  would  soon  come  back  and  open  it  again. 
Locked  in  here,  and  all  access  to  her  dying  father  cut  off 
by  his  own  act !  In  an  agony  of  despair  she  beat  upon 
the  door  and  pressed  against  it  with  all  her  power,  which 
she  felt  certain  would  soon  bear  it  from  its  hinges.  But 
the  door  stood  firm — mockingly,  remorselessly  firm. 

What  should  she  do?  She  wrung  her  hands  an  in 
stant,  then  suddenly  clasped  them  with  a  hysterical  laugh. 
Running  to  the  window,  she  threw  it  open.  Here  was  a 
way  for  her.  From  this  sill  she  could  lower  herself  to 
the  ground  by  the  stout  grape-vine  that  crept  along  the 
side  of  the  house,  and  enter  the  cottage  through  some 
window  below.  Quickly  springing  upon  the  window- 
ledge,  she  grasped  the  vine  in  her  hands  and  swung  her 
self  out  into  the  darkness  and  the  storm.  For  a  second 
she  hung  motionless,  the  rain  beating  down  upon  her  up- 


SOMETHING  UNFORESEEN  OCCURS.  265 

turned  face,  over  which  the  wind  blew  her  thick  hair, 
shutting  out  the  sight  of  the  light  in  her  room.  Then,  as 
her  feet  caught  a  hold  in  the  meshes  of  the  vine,  which 
stoutly  bore  her  up,  she  began  her  descent.  Quickly  she 
lowered  herself  now,  for  there  was  a  sudden  silence  with 
in  the  cottage  that  made  her  quake  with  the  apprehension 
that  she  was  already  too  late  to  aid  her  father  in  his  strug 
gle  for  life.  As  she  touched  the  ground,  almost  breathless 
with  her  exertion  and  agonized  by  the  fear  that  her  father 
was  dead,  there  came  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels  close 
at  hand.  She  stood  bewildered  with  the  sudden  hope 
this  sound  had  brought  her.  Here  at  last  was  help 
when  most  she  needed  it.  Above  the  roar  of  the  wind 
she  heard  the  voice  of  the  driver  as  he  urged  on  his 
horse.  In  the  direction  of  this  voice  she  ran,  crying, 
"  Stop  !  stop  !  Help  !  help  !"  Another  instant  and  the 
vehicle  dashed  past  the  cottage,  rattling  along  the  road 
toward  the  village,  the  man  within  calling  to  his  steed  in 
tones  as  frightened  as  those  which  bore  the  girl's  cry  for 
help  above  the  howling  of  the  storm.  But  though  the 
carriage  sped  away  as  if  followed  by  some  demon  of  the 
darkness,  the  girl  did  not  cease  her  cries  nor  abate  the 
swift-flying  pace  with  which  she  pursued  it.  Already 
she  was  in  the  road,  running  after  the  vehicle,  calling 
louder  and  more  piteously  to  it  the  farther  it  left  her  be 
hind.  She  stopped  an  instant  for  breath,  and  clasped  her 
giddy  head  to  keep  herself  from  falling.  She  glanced 
back  at  the  cottage.  She  saw  the  door  open,  and  in  it 
stood  that  dreaded  man,  his  form  outlined  in  the  light  of 
the  room  behind  him.  The  sight  of  him  sent  a  thrill  of 
terror  through  her  and  quickly  brought  back  her  strength 
and  resolution.  Her  father  in  the  power  of  such  a  wicked, 
cruel  man  and  she  standing  here  !  She  ran  on  again  after 
the  carriage.  It  should  not  escape  her.  The  man  within 
it  should  yet  hear  her  cries  and  turn  to  her  relief.  Away 
she  flew,  faster  even  than  before,  calling  so  loudly  that  the 
wind,  roar  as  it  might,  could  not  drown  her  voice.  But 
as  she  ran,  and  was  now  gaining  upon  the  carriage,  her 
feet  dashed  against  some  object  in  the  road.  She  fell 
headlong,  and  in  another  instant  lay  senseless  upon  the 
earth. 

23 


266  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

CONFIDENCES  AND  COURTSHIPS. 

""V7~OU  are  very  kind  to  speak  so  hopefully,"  said  the 
X  elder  woman  with  a  voice  as  sad  as  the  dejected  air 
with  which  she  sat  looking  into  the  bright,  crackling  fire 
that  burned  this  evening  in  the  old  farm-house.  "  But 
what  reason  for  hope  is  there  with  so  much  arrayed  against 
us?  What  can  we  two  weak  women  do  to  successfully 
oppose  the  schemes  of  these  cunning  and  wicked  men? 
All  is  on  their  side — money,  experience  and  the  world's 
opinion.  You  seem  to  forget,  A/iel,  that  we  are  only 
women ;  and  as  if  that  were  not  disadvantage  enough  in 
this  contest,  we  are  both  friendless  and  penniless." 

"  We  have  our  courage  and  our  wits  still  left.  These 
should  make  us  strong  and  hopeful,"  replied  the  other 
with  a  firm  voice,  not  looking  up  from  beside  the  chim 
ney-jamb,  where,  as  usual,  she  was  sitting  in  the  shadow, 
her  face  bent  over  the  swiftly-plying  needles.  "  True,  we 
are  only  women,  as  you  say,  our  very  weakness  giving 
men  their  power  to  deal  with  us ;  true  it  is  they  can  rob 
us  of  love,  virtue,  happiness,  friends  and  all  our  hearts 
hold  dear  and  sacred ;  but,  thank  Heaven  !  no  man,  how 
ever  strong  or  wicked  he  may  be,  can  take  away  from 
woman  her  fortitude  to  endure  calamity,  or  crush  out  of 
her  heart  the  hope  that  lingers  there  despite  its  deepest 
sorrows  and  unutterable  woe.  But  it  has  not  come  to  this 
pass  with  us.  We  have  ample  time  to  put  our  courage 
and  tact  to  the  test  in  this  allair,  which,  I  promise  you,  if 
we  are  but  bold  and  clever,  shall  not  go  so  hard  with  us 
as  you  fear.  As  I  told  you  to-day,  we  have  already  that 
young  Dibbs  and  Patrick  on  our  side,  and  I  will  see  to  it 
that  the  lawyer  too  joins  our  forces." 

"You  are  a  very  courageous  little  woman,"  said  the 
other,  after  a  pause,  in  which  she  had  been  regarding  her 
companion  with  a  smile  of  admiration.  "I  never  thought 
you  had  so  stout  a  heart.  You  have  always  seemed  to  me, 
in  all  these  years  we  have  been  together,  so  timid  and  fear 
ful,  going  around  as  if  you  were  almost  afraid  of  your  own 


CONFIDENCES  AND   COURTSHIPS.  267 

shadow.  I  cannot  understand  what  has  made  such  a  sud 
den  change  in  you.  Somehow,  since  he  came  back,  we  have 
changed  characters,  as  it  were.  I  have  become  weak,  and 
you  strong ;  I  despairing,  and  you  hopeful." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  have  less  at  stake  than  you 
have.  You  know  it  is  easy  for  one  to  hope  who  has  not 
much  to  fear.  I  know  you  will  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  feel  any  harm  that  threatens  you  or  Volney  as 
much  as  if  it  threatened  myself." 

"  It's  always  Volney  when  you  speak  of  me;"  and  there 
was  a  trifle  of  bitterness  in  the  woman's  tone.  "You  link 
his  fortune  closely  with  mine,  as  if  you  thought  my  chief 
duty  in  life  were  to  him — that  I  must  do  everything  with 
a  view  to  his  happiness.  For  his  sake  you  persuaded  me 
to  endure  in  silence  the  many  tormenting  years  of  my  first 
married  life;  for  his  sake  you  urged  me  to  marry  this  man, 
who  has  heaped  upon  me  every  indignity  these  past  five 
wretched  years;  and  for  his  sake  I  dare  say  you  would 
now,  were  you  to  speak  out  your  honest  thoughts,  urge  me 
to  sacrifice  myself  in  any  way  for  the  balance  of  my  days." 

"You  have  always  done  your  fullest  duty  by  him,"  said 
the  other,  softly.  "  No  mother  ever  did  more  for  a  child. 
I  am  sure  the  day  will  come  when  he  will  repay  it.  Not 
all,  for  that  he  can  never  do,  strive  as  he  may.  A  mother's 
love  is  a  debt  that  can  never  be  cancelled  this  side  of 
heaven;" and  the  tremulous  voice  died  away  in  the  silence. 

"He  owes  far  more  to  you  than  he  does  to  me,"  was  the 
slow  and  emphatic  rejoinder.  "  You  have  been  more  of  a 
mother  to  him  than  I  have  been.  Your  breast  fed  him  when 
he  was  a  babe.  By  day  and  by  night  you  were  never  away 
from  him.  His  first  crow  was  to  you — his  first  laugh  in  your 
arms.  In  every  sickness  you  were  his  constant  nurse — in 
every  hour  of  health  his  playmate  and  companion.  You 
have  lived  only  for  him  since  the  very  night  he  was  born. 
How  strange  it  is  that  I,  his  own  mother,  could  not  love 
him  as  you  have  done !  Perhaps,"  she  added  with  a  little 
shudder  and  in  a  lower  voice,  "it  is  because  I  ceased  to 
love  his  father  ere  he  was  born.  1  have  heard  of  mothers 
who  never  loved  their  offspring  when  thus  born,  nor  their 
offspring  them.  Maybe  such  a  mother  I  am." 

At  this   moment  the  outer  door  of  the    kitchen    was 


268  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

opened  and  closed  again.  As  the  women  listened  a  pair 
of  heavy  boots  was  heard  beating  time  to  the  following 
verse,  rendered  with  a  rollicking  air  by  a  light-hearted 
though  subdued  voice : 

"Ocli,  Mary  O'Hura,  you  use  me  vilely, 

And  like  a  child  me  do  coax  and  decoy. 
It's  meself  that's  thinkin',  while  you  do  be  winkin' 
So  soft  upon  me,  you  will  my  heart  desthroy." 

Hardly  had  the  last  word  been  uttered,  when  the  singer 
rapped  gently  on  the  door,  and  opened  it  slowly  in  re 
sponse  to  the  answering  voice.  It  was  Pat  Doyle  who 
sidled  into  the  room  with  an  awkward  bow.  He  stood  in 
the  presence  of  the  women  twirling  his  hat  in  his  hand, 
and  his  eyes  rose  and  fell  upon  the  floor  with  an  abashed 
expression.  But  there  was  a  sly  look  of  merriment  in 
them  as  they  were  slowly  raised,  and  he  glanced  from  one 
woman  to  the  other  as  he  said, 

"  SI  in  re,  it's  knowin'  the  answer  I'll  get  afore  I  axes  the 
question,  seein'  the  kind  heart  o'  ye  look in'  out  o'  them 
eyes,  Misthress  Gagger.  God  save  ye  kindly,  ma'am  !" 

"  What  is  it  you  wish,  Patrick  ?"  she  asked,  greeting 
him  with  a  half-serious  look  and  a  little  authoritative 
wave  of  her  hand. 

"I'd  be  afther  goin'  out  to  spind  the  evenin',  if  it's  not 
agin  yer  likin',  ma'am  ;"  and  although  he  had  tried  to  an 
swer  her  with  seeming  indifference,  his  face  flushed  and 
his  eyes  became  suddenly  busy  in  watching  the  nervous 
movements  of  his  feet. 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  your  going,  except  my  regard 
for  your  health.  It's  a  very  bad  night  for  any  one,  even 
as  hardy  as  you  are,  to  be  exposed.  Certainly  you  do" not 
know  how  heavily  it  is  raining;  you  will  be  drenched 
through  and  through.  See  !  you  are  very  wet  now,  com 
ing  onlv  this  little  distance  from  the  barn." 

"Shure,  it's  more  harrum  can  befall  a  man  than  the 
thrifle  o'  a  duckin',  Misthress  Gagger,  an  it's  not  meself  as 
wud  be  -afeard  o'  a  deluge  this  night.  It's  runnin'  be 
tween  the  dhrops  I'd  be  all  the  way  ;''  and  he  said  this 
with  a  sparkle  in  his  eyes  and  a  smile  on  his  lips. 

"Very  well;    go,  if   you    choose.     But   you   must  be 


CONFIDENCES  AND   COURTSHIPS.  269 

greatly  in  love,"  she  added  with  a  quizzical  look  and  a 
little  banter  in  her  voice,  "to  go  two  miles  through 
such  a  pouring  rain  as  this  to  see  your  charmer.  I 
hope  the  young  lady  will  appreciate  your  extraordinary 
devotion." 

"  It's  no  more  for  her  than  for  meself  I'm  goin',"  he  re 
joined  with  a  sly  laugh.  "  Faix,  it's  up  to  the  ears  I  am 
wid  love  o'  her,  an'  it's  proud  I  am  to  tell  it,"  with  an 
emphatic  shake  of  his  head. 

'•'Are  you  very  sure  you  love  her  ?  Do  you  feel  happy, 
\vithout  a  single  doubt,  when  you  are  with  her  ?" 

"  Oh,  Misthress  Gagger,  ye  make  me  blush,  so  ye  do, 
till  ivery  dhrop  o'  blood  in  me  body  is  scaklin'  me  cheeks ! 
It's  not  ashamed  I  am  to  tell  ye  how  I  love  the  pretty 
colleen.  Faix,  when  I'm  sittin'  all  alone  wid  her,  I  feel 
as  if  I  wor  covered  all  over  wid  rainbows  an'  aolian  harps 
wor  playin'  all  round  me.  Ah  !  shure,  it's  an  angel  she 
is,  ban-in'  the  wings  !" 

"  You  must  be  very  happy  with  such  feelings,"  went  on 
Mrs.  Gagger  when  the  merriment  his  speech  had  excited 
in  her  and  Aziel  had  subsided.  "Love  does  not  always 
bring  pleasure  to  its  possessor.  It  makes  some  people 
very  miserable." 

"  Does  it,  indade?"  opening  his  eyes  wide  with  an  in 
credulous  look.  Then,  emboldened  by  the  interest  his  lis 
teners  were  manifesting,  the  merry  twinkle  came  back,  and 
he  continued  :  "  Shure,  then,  it  can't  be  rale  love  that 
worries  them.  Is  it  love  that's  miserable,  do  ye  tell  me  ? 
Faix,  it's  a  great  sweetness  for  me  to  be  dyin  o'  sich  mis 
ery  as  love.  It  sets  me  heart  to  achin'  so  wid  joy  it's  not 
a  wink  o'  sleep  I  git  at  night  for  the  pleasure  o'  the  pain." 

"  I  wonder  if  she  loves  you  as  much  ?  I  hope  so, 
though  the  song  I  heard  a  few  moments  ago  did  not  show 
that  you  were  very  confident  of  her  affection," 

"  Now,  Misthress  Gagger,  wor  ye  listenin'  to  that  bit 
o'  fun  I  wor  pokin'  at  meself?  Indade,  it  wor  only  a 
thrifle  o'  humor,  so  it  wor.  Throth,  if  I  wor  as  shure  o' 
heaven  as  I  am  of  her  heart,  it's  not  throublin'  me  sowl 
I'd  be  about  a  sweet  harp  an'  goolden  crown  in  the  world 
beyant,"  reverently  crossing  himself  as  he  cast  his  eyes 
upward. 

23* 


270  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"  Has  she  ever  told  you  she  loved  you  ?  If  not,  you 
had  better  take  care,"  shaking  her  finger  at  him  with  a 
warning  in  her  look.  "  Sometimes  love  is  all  on  one  side, 
and  the  party  loving  docs  not  find  out  his  mistake  until  it 
is  too  late." 

This  remark  at  first  had  a  depressing  effect  upon  Doyle. 
His  eyes  became  serious  and  his  smiles  gave  way  to  doubts 
as  he  ran  his  hand  slowly  through  his  hair.  But  only  for 
an  instant  was  his  expression  thus  confused  and  uncertain. 
His  face  cleared  away  as  quickly  as  it  had  clouded,  and 
he  said  with  a  confident  laugh, 

"  Indadc,  it's  only  try  in'  me  faith  in  the  colleen  ye  are, 
Misthress  Gagger.  Be  me  sow!,  it's  me  book-oath  I  could 
take  that  she  loves  rne  !  Av  coorse  it's  not  all  her  heart 
she'd  be  showin'  me  at  wanse.  It's  playin'  a  while  wid 
me  tindherness  she'd  be  aftlier  doin'  wid  the  little  scrap 
of  decipshun  in  her  nathur.  Take  my  word  for  it,  it's 
not  whistlin'  to  a  milestone  I've  bin  doin',  at  all,  at  all, 
these  last  tin  months,  Misthress  Gagger." 

The  comical  wink  with  which  Doyle  delivered  this  re 
mark  made  his  companions  break  out  into  a  hearty  laugh, 
in  which  he  joined  with  quiet  satisfaction. 

"  I  see  you  are  hopelessly  in  love,  so  hurry  away  and 
join  your  idol  as  soon  as  you  can,"  said  his  mistress  with 
a  dismissing  wave  of  her  hand.  "  Take  my  advice,  Pat 
rick,  and  make  sure  that  she  loves  you  before  you  give 
her  more  of  your  heart." 

"  Shure,  it's  ivery  small  dhrop  o'  me  own  heart  she  has 
now,  the  little  desaiver!  It's  her  blessed  heart,  mavour- 
neen,  I'm  aftlier  vvantin'  wid  all  me  powers." 

He  quickly  bowed  himself  out  with  scraping  feet,  and 
left  the  room.  A  moment  later  they  heard  him  going 
down  the  lane  singing  this  song,  a  line  of  which  they 
caught  now  and  then  in  the  lull  of  the  storm  : 

"  Then  Rory,  the  rogue,  stole  his  arm  round  her  neck, 
So  soft  and  so  white,  without  freckle  or  speck  ; 
And  he  looked  in  her  eyes,  that  were  beaming  with  light, 
And  he  kissed  her  sweet  lips.     Don't  you  think  he  was  right? 
'Now,  liory,  leave  off,  sir!     You'll  hug  me  no  more. 
That's  eight  times  to-day  you  have  kissed  me  before.' 
'Then  here  goes  another,'  says  he,  'to  make  sure, 
For  there's  luck  in  odd  numbers,  says  liory  O'More.'  " 


WHAT  MAY  HAPPEN  TO  A   LOVER.  271 

"  He's  a  good,  honest  soul,"  said  Mrs.  Gagger  when 
Doyle's  voice  was  no  longer  heard,  "  I  could  not  bear  to 
refuse  to  let  him  go,  but  I  wish  now  that  I  had  not  con 
sented.  Somehow,  I  do  dread  our  being  left  alone,  even 
on  such  a  night  as  this." 

"  I  am  sure  we  need  fear  no  visitors  to-night.  This 
storm,  I  guess,  will  be  our  safe  protection  from  visits  of 
good  or  evil,"  replied  Aziel  in  a  reassuring  tone.  "Yet 
if  the  one  you  dread  should  come,  he  shall  not  make  a 
coward  of  either  of  us.  AVe  can  bravely  dare  any  one 
and  anything  to-night ;"  and  her  face  was  not  less  reso 
lute  than  her  words. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

WHAT  31  AY  HAPPEN  TO  A  LOVER. 

"PATRICK  DOYLE  had  been  gone  but  a  short  time 
_L  when  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels  coming  rapidly  up 
the  lane  startled  the  women. 

"  Who  can  it  be  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gagger  in  a  half- 
suppressed  whisper  that  told  as  plainly  as  the  agitation 
of  her  countenance  the  fear  that  had  suddenly  come 
upon  her. 

Aziel  made  no  reply  beyond  a  negative  shake  of  the 
head.  Her  knitting  fell  into  her  la]),  and  she  leaned  for- 
Avard,  intently  listening,  a  white  rift  crossing  the  firm 
lines  of  her  face.  The  vehicle  drew  nearer,  halted  an 
instant  at  the  door,  then  went  on  at  a  slow  pace  in  the 
direction  of  the  barn.  There  it  stopped,  and  a  man's 
voice  called  out  with  a  pleasant  gruffness, 

"  Hello,  Pat !     Here  !  I  want  you  !" 

Xo  response  coming  to  this  summons,  they  heard  the 
barn-door  opened  and  the  vehicle  driven  under  shelter. 

"It's  only  the  lawyer,  Mr.  Craft/'  said  Aziel  with  a 
smile  of  relief  in  reply  to  the  questioning  and  frightened 
gaze  of  her  companion.  "Certainly,"  with  a  meaning  in 
flection  in  her  voice,  "you,  at  least,  have  no  cause  for 
alarm  in  seein»;  him." 


272  AS  IT  JAir  HAPPEN. 


"What  can  bring-  him  here  in  such  a  storm?  Xo  good 
to  us,  1  am  sure."  Then,  her  countenance  quickly  chang 
ing  with  the  thought,  "  Ah  !  I  remember  now  —  the  letter 
he  wrote  to  you.  But,  Aziel,  I  would  not  trust  that 
man.  Be  careful  how  you  trifle  with  him.  You  may 
not  be  able  to  deceive  him  so  easily  as  you  suppose." 

"  I  think  I  understand  him,"  said  A/id,  a  little  gleam 
of  merriment  in  her  eyes.  "  He  comes  here  to-night  as 
our  friend,  and  I  shall  see  to  it  that  he  goes  away  the 
same.  You  must  promise  not  to  leave  me  alone  with 
him  a  moment.  You  will  do  that  much  to  help  along  my 
scheme?  You  will  further  aid  my  plan  by  treating  him 
with  apparent  kindness  while  he  is  here,  and  by  keeping 
him  engaged  in  conversation  with  you  as  much  as  you 
possibly  ean.'M 

Hardly  had  an  affirmative  answer  been  given  to  these 
requests  when  a  rap  came  upon  the  door.  With  a  cau 
tious  shake  of  her  finger  at  her  mistress,  and  suppressing 
her  own  mischievous  smile,  Aziel  opened  the  door. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Loyd  !  I  have  the  extreme 
honor  of  personally  presenting  myself  to  you  —  Rader 
Craft,  attorney  and  eounselor-at-la\v,"  was  the  lawyer's 
salutation  as  he  removed  his  hat  and  gave  her  a  full  view 
of  his  expansive  smile,  which,  rippling  on  his  broad 
features,  finally  lost  itself  in  the  shining  waste  of  his 
upper  forehead. 

"I  am  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  rejoined 
A/iel  with  a  modest  inclination  of  her  head  as  she  ex 
tended  her  hand  and  bid  him  enter. 

He  eagerly  took  her  palm  in  the  great  puffy  cavity  of 
his  own,  and  closed  his  tat  fingers  upon  it  with  a  pressure 
more  ardent  than  agreeable  to  her  as  she  gently  released 
herself. 

"  Your  cordial  welcome,  let  me  hope,"  he  said  with  an 
impressive  voice  and  his  most  benignant  look,  "  is  the 
initiatory  perfection  of  this  evening's  hospitality.  —  Ah  !" 
noticing  Mrs.  Gagger,  who  had  risen  to  receive  him,  for 
the  first  time.  "  This,  I  presume,  is  the  \vife  of  our 
highly-esteemed,  though  slightly  eccentric,  fellow-citizen, 
Silas  Gagger,  Esq.?  Mrs.  Gagger,"  advancing  and  mak 
ing  her  as  profound  a  bow  as  the  rotundity  of  his  form 


WHAT  MAY  HAPPEN  TO  A   LOVER.  273 

would  permit,  "  allow  me  to  express  the  unalloyed  felicity 
M'ith  which  I  present  myself  to  so  estimable  a  lady." 

In  response  to  Aziel's  urgent  look  she  returned  this 
compliment  with  a  gracious  smile.  Assuring  him  that 
the  pleasure  of  their  meeting  was  mutual,  she  invited  him 
to  lay  aside  his  overcoat  and  be  seated  in  the  chair  which 
Aziel-had  already  placed  beside  him. 

"  The  cordiality  of  your  reception,  my  dear  madam," 
he  said  as  he  deliberately  drew  off  the  coat  and  placed  it 
over  the  back  of  the  chair,  seating  himself  with  a  grand 
flourish  of  his  hands,  "  I  hope  is  the  earnest  of  our 
mutual  appreciation.  For  allow  me  to  state,  ab  initio — 
from  the  beginning,  as  we  gentlemen  of  the  bar  use  the 
phrase — that  the  object  of  my  appearance  on  this  inclem 
ent  evening  is  not  only  to  assure  you  of  my  distinguished 
consideration,  but  to  convince  you  if  possible  that,  while 
my  professional  services  are  not  directly  at  your  disposal, 
you  can,  nevertheless,  have  the  unreserved  benefit  of  my 
friendly  counsel  and  sympathetic  anxiety  under  the 
present  harassing  circumstances  of  your  environments." 

Having  thus  delivered  himself  with  a  voice  as  bland 
as  his  smile,  and  with  his  hands  slowly  revolving  around 
each  other,  as  if  he  ever  held  them  thus  ready  to  do  any 
act  of  kindness,  he  raised  his  inclining  head  to  an  erect 
position,  and  with  a  smiling  -serenity  awaited  her  reply. 
While  thus  regarding  her  his  eyes  more  than  once  fur 
tively  glanced  at  Aziel,  who,  already  in  her  seat  by  the 
chimney-jamb,  was  busy  with  her  eyes  upon  her  rapid 
needles. 

"  I  don't  exactly  catch  your  meaning,"  answered  Mrs. 
Gagger  with  assumed  embarrassment.  "  Perhaps  you 
will  be  kind  enough  to  explain  to  me  more  fully  in 
what  way  I  can  avail  myself  of  your  friendly  aid,  so 
very  kindly  proffered." 

"  Primarily,  my  dear  madam,  allow  me  to  propound  an 
interrogatory.  Am  I  correct  in  the  assumption  that,  with 
your  perfect  acquiescence,  I  can  communicate  with  you  in 
absolute  freedom  and  confidence  on  an  important  subject 
touching  your  interests  in  the  presence  of  our  mutual 
friend?"  inclining  his  head  toward  Aziel  with  an  exuber 
ant  smile,  over  which  there  came  a  shade  of  disappoint- 

s 


274  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

ment  when  he  saw  how  steadily  her  eves  were  fixed  upon 
her  work.  "A  beautiful  exhibition  of  maidenly  reserve!" 
he  mentally  thought  as  his  gaze  slowly  reverted  to  his 
immediate  listener. 

"Aziel  and  I  keep  no  secrets  from  each  other.  We 
have  been  confidential  friends  during  many  years.  I  shall 
be  pleased  to  have  her  hear  anything  regarding  any  interest 
of  mine,  no  matter  how  private  you  may  consider  it." 

"A  most  generous  compliment,  and  well  deserved,  I  am 
confident,"  ejaculated  the  lawyer,  again  looking  vainly  in 
Aziel's  direction  with  his  beaming  smile,  and  as  vainly 
adding  a  slight  nervous  cough  to  attract  her  attention. 

"  Friendship,  Mrs.  Gagger,"  he  resumed,  "  is  a  cadence 
of  heavenly  melody  ever  resounding  through  noble  hearts. 
It  is  the  one  divine  song  of  our  fallen  nature.  Gratified 
indeed  am  I  to  discover  so  celestial  a  bond  of  union  be 
tween  you  two  lovely  women  as  friendship;  which,  as  the 
immortal  Cicero  says,  improves  happiness  and  abates  misery 
by  the  doubling  of  our  joy  and  the  dividing  of  our  grief. 
The  more  encouraged  am  I  now  to  believe  that  the  object 
of  my  present  visitation  will  eventuate  successfully.  Two 
heroic  women,  their  hearts  united  by  friendship's  holy  bond, 
can  defy  alike  the  insidious  approach  of  evil  and  the  more 
open  assaults  of  avowed  hostilitv.  But  why  should  I 
longer  delay  to  appease  your  anxious  curiosity?  Nor  will 
I.  Ladies,"  lowering  his  voice  to  a  theatrical  whisper 
which  sounded  like  the  bass-notes  of  a  violoncello,  "my 
appearance  beneath  this  hospitable  roof  is  both  a  warning 
of  danger  and  a  suggestion  of  its  avoidance." 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  both  women  in  the  same  breath, 
their  countenances  well  simulating  an  agitation  that  made 
him  put  out  his  hands  with  a  repressing  and  consoling 
gesture. 

"  Nay,  nay !"  he  said  with  a  gentle  chiding  in  his  smooth 
voice;  "let  not  needless  fear  thus  usurp  the  empire  of  your 
cheeks  or  banish  from  carmine  lip  and  gleaming  eye  the 
heart's  serenest  smile.  There  is  no  immediate  cause,  even 
in  the  present  threatening  circumstances,  for  alarm's  slight 
est  shudder.  I  grant  there  are  darkling  clouds  athwart 
the  domestic  sky,  obscuring  the  solar  luminary  and  por 
tending  the  gathering  of  a  storm,  but  notwithstanding 


WHAT  MAY  HAPPEN  TO  A   LOVER.  275 

these  portents  the  uxorial  mariner,"  fixing  his  calm,  con 
fident  gaze  on  Mrs.  Gagger,  "shall  cross  the  threatening 
seas  to  a  smoothly-undulating  harbor  of  safety  and  of 
rest." 

"  Your  words  are  very  encouraging,"  replied  Mrs.  Gag 
ger,  drawing  a  deep  sigh  and  letting  her  clasped  hands  fall 
into  her  lap,  while  her  great  black  eyes  looked  into  his 
face  with  a  timid  expression  of  gratitude. 

"  We  shall  never  forget  your  kindness,"  interposed  Aziel 
with  a  tremulous  voice,  vouchsafing  him  the  briefest  glance 
of  her  upturned,  thankful  face. 

"  Ladies,"  laying  his  hand  upon  his  heart  and  bowing 
gallantly  to  each  of  them  in  turn,  "your  compliments 
overwhelm  me.  Would  I  were  more  worthy  of  your 
distinguished  consideration.  But  why  should  I  delay  to 
communicate  the  important  business  which  is  the  object 
of  our  present  interview?  Nor  will  I.  Mrs.  Gagger," 
a  touch  of  gravity  obscuring  for  the  instant  the  complete 
blandness  of  his  smile,  "I  shall  not  be  violating  the  ethics 
of  my  profession  when  I  inform  you  that  before  your  hus 
band's  departure  he  held  a  personal  interview  with  me. 
In  justice  to  the  confidence  he  then  and  there  reposed  in 
me,  I  cannot  divulge  the  questions  he  submitted  for  my 
legal  elucidation.  This  much  I  will  say  for  your  gratifica 
tion — that  his  absence  will  be  but  temporary,  and  I  cherish 
the  hope  that  during  his  self-imposed  social  exile  nothing 
can  transpire  in  this  locality  to  confirm  the  unfounded  sus 
picions  of  his  peculiar  nature — a  nature,  allow  me  to  add, 
so  jealous  of  your  transcendent  beauty  and  virtue  that  it 
excites  my  admiration  as  well  as  my  sympathy." 

She  sadly  shook  her  head  as  she  rejoined  :  "  I  am  at 
an  utter  loss  to  understand  your  meaning,  Mr.  Craft. 
Your  words  are  as  unintelligible  to  me  as  my  husband's 
conduct." 

"  Of  whom  is  Mr.  Gagger  jealous  ?"  asked  Aziel,  turn 
ing  upon  him  a  look  of  modest  innocence. 

"  Ladies,"  resumed  the  lawyer  after  quite  a  pause — and 
there  was  a  touch  of  oifended  dignity  in  his  voice — "I 
appear  here  neither  to  reveal  nor  to  explore  secrets.  Pro 
fessional  ethics  forbid  the  one,  and  friendship  the  other. 
My  mission  to-night  is  merely  to  assure  you  that  my  pro- 


276  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

fessional  duty  to  Mr.  Gagger  shall  in  no  wise  interfere  with 
my  friendly  offices  to  Mrs.  Gagger.  In  this  case  the  cause 
of  husband  and  that  of  wife  are  so  identical  that  I  cannot 
further  the  interests  of  the  one  without  aiding  those  of  the 
other.  Already  I  have  been  commissioned  by  Mr.  Gag 
ger  to  respond  to  any  monetary  'demands  his  wife  may 
make  upon  me  during  his  absence,  and  these  demands  I 
shall  be  pleased  to  liquidate  at  any  time,  either  by  letter 
or  in  person." 

"Thank  you!  Just  at  present  I  am  in  no  need  of 
money,"  said  Mrs.  Gagger  with  a  haughty  little  inclina 
tion  of  her  head.  "  You  can  keep  my  husband's  funds 
untouched  by  me  until  his  return." 

"Ah  !  they  were  merely  placed  at  your  disposal  in  case 
of  necessity,"  rejoined  the  lawyer  in  a  mollified  tone. 

"  What  would  you  advise  us  to  do  to  allay  Mr.  Gag- 
ger's  jealousy  ?"  questioned  Aziel,  drawing  her  seat  a 
little  nearer  the  lawyer,  her  eyes  innocently  scanning  his 
face. 

"  My  friendly  advice,  ladies,  is  that  during  his  absence 
you  shall  allow  no  stranger  to  visit  this  house,  no  matter 
who*  he  may  be  or  what  his  pretext  for  corning.  And," 
he  went  on  with  a  knowing  shake  of  his  head,  "should 
you  be  annoyed  by  any  stranger — mark  me,  I  make  no 
insinuation — refer  him  to  me  without  delay.  Even  if 
Mr.  Gagger's  suspicions  of  identity  be  correct " — here  he 
half  closed  his  eyes  and  brought  together  with  little  taps 
the  open  fingers  of  h'tf,  hands — "  that  is  no  reason  why  the 
hymeneal  altar  of  five  years  ago  should  lose  any  of  its 
glory  or  its  binding  power." 

"And  you  will  aid  us  in  bringing  about  so  happy  a  re 
sult  from  all  this  trouble  ?"  queried  Aziel,  clasping  her 
hands  with  a  pleading  gesture  and  looking  at  him  with 
her  most  winning  smile. 

"My  chivalric  nature  responds  with  all  its  heart  to 
your  request,  Miss  Loyd.  You  and  Mrs.  Gagger  here 
shall  yet  learn  how  one  true  friend  can  nobly  serve  the 
object  of  his  attraction  ;"  and  he  ogled  her,  with  his  lips 
expanded  like  the  new  moon's  crescent  smile. 

Some  noise  without  had  suddenly  caught  Mrs.  Gagger's 
attention.  She  went  over  to  the  window  to  listen,  her 


WHAT  MAY  HAPPEN  TO  A   LOVEE.  277 

back  turned  toward  her  companions.  Thus  left  com 
paratively  alone  with  Aziel,  the  lawyer  lost  no  time  in 
seizing  his  opportunity ;  and  opportunity  was  the  one 
great  want  of  his  overburdened  heart  this  evening.  He 
glanced  down  on  the  woman  at  his  side  with  an  eager, 
passionate  smile.  He  caught  at  her  hand  and  squeezed 
it  violently,  his  face  radiant  with  smirks  and  smiles, 
while  with  his  disengaged  hand  he  quickly  brought  out 
from  his  pocket  a  little  bunch  of  red  roses — Mrs.  Boozer's 
flowers — and  pressed  them  into  her  palm,  excitedly  whis 
pering, 

"  They  will  speak  to  you  far  better  than  I  can.  There's 
a  love-message  in  them.  Let  them  tell  it  to  your  heart 
when  I  am  gone." 

He  tried  to  kiss  her  hand.  She  resisted,  pulling  it  from 
his  hold  and  turning  away  her  face  with  a  smothered 
laugh.  Excited  by  this  sweet  exhibition  of  her  coyness, 
he  made  a  desperate  lunge  to  regain  his  grasp  of  the 
hand  so  tantalizingly  near ;  but  as  he  did  so  the  treach 
erous  chair,  without  so  much  as  a  creak  of  warning, 
broke  beneath  him,  and  the  next  moment  he  was  strug 
gling  upon  the  floor,  his  hands  and  heels  flourishing  in 
the  air. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Craft,  are  you  hurt?"  screamed  Aziel,  bend 
ing  over  him  as,  after  several  spasmodic  struggles,  he  lay 
motionless,  like  a  great  turtle  upon  its  back. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  you  are  not  injured  !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Gagger,  coming  to  the  rescue  with  an  exaggerated  cry  of 
alarm. 

Now,  while  the  personal  beauty  or  attractive  appear 
ance  of  a  turtle  suffers  no  material  diminution  by  his  lying 
upon  his  back,  this  attitude  of  the  lawyer  severely  detracted 
from  his  manly  appearance  and  dignified  bearing.  The 
harder  he  strove  to  regain  his  feet,  the  more  ludicrous  a 
sight  he  became.  His  face  grew  redder  and  redder,  until 
it  looked  like  the  prize  beet  at  an  agricultural  show.  His 
fat,  short  arms  stubbornly  resisted  his  frantic  efforts  to  get 
them  under  him,  while  his  ponderous  legs  as  stubbornly 
refused  to  crook  themselves  beneath  him.  All  this  time 
the  broken  pieces  of  the  chair  were  impinging  themselves 
against  his  anatomy,  giving  a  pain  that  added  a  con- 


278  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

strained  expression  of  agony  to  the  confusion  of  his  coun 
tenance. 

There  was  but  one  way  for  him  to  get  up — to  roll  over 
and  elevate  himself  by  his  hands  and  knees.  Modesty 
and  pride  alike  forbade  such  an  exhibition  of  his  form 
and  lack  of  suppleness.  No;  sooner  than  do  that  he 
would  ask  these  ladies  to  extend  their  hands  and  pull 
him  upon  his  feet.  He  did  so. 

"  Ladies,"  he  exclaimed  in  hoarse  puffs  as  he  renewed 
his  exertions,  "  please  give  me  your  hands.  A  strange 
weakness  has  come  over  my  bodily  powers.  I  require 
your  assistance." 

With  increased  exclamations  of  sympathy,  each  seized 
one  of  his  hands,  and  at  his  signal  pulled  upward  with  all 
the  might  of  their  outstretched  arms.  Slowly  his  large 
body  had  begun  to  rise,  and  with  a  mighty  effort  he  had 
brought  one  foot  beneath  his  centre  of  gravity,  when — 
intentionally  or  not  we  cannot  say,  for  history  is  seldom 
exact — the  women  lost  their  hold,  and  down  he  went  upon 
the  floor  again  with  a  tremendous  thud.  The  women  gave 
little  screams  of  alarm,  and  recriminating  each  other  for 
their  want  of  strength  bent  over  him  with  profuse  apol 
ogies  and  ardent  proffers  of  another  attempt  to  aid  him. 
He  shook  his  head  in  despair,  and  looked  up  at  them  with 
a  face  of  wild  dismay.  Then,  with  something  very  like  a 
groan,  he  turned  over,  and  with  one  mighty  scramble,  as 
if  he  were  swimming  in  a  shallow  pond,  at  last  got  upon 
his  hands  and  knees.  From  this  posture  he  quickly  rose 
to  his  feet,  and  glancing  in  mute  confusion  at  their  re 
strained  faces  caught  up  his  hat  and  coat  and  darted 
toward  the  door. 

"  Excuse  me,  ladies !"  he  managed  to  gasp.  "  I  have 
an  engagement.  Why  need  I  longer  delay?  Nor  will  I." 

Another  second  and  he  was  gone.  In  the  midst  of  their 
half-subdued  peals  of  lairghter  they  heard  him  swing  open 
the  barn-door  with  a  mighty  bang.  An  instant  later  his 
carriage  dashed  furiously  by  the  house,  and  sped  down  the 
lane  at  a  rattling  rate.  The  women  tried  to  compose  them 
selves  and  discuss  the  object  of  the  attorney's  visit  and  its 
effect  upon  their  future.  They  could  not  long  be  serious 
with  the  picture  of  the  lawyer  on  the  floor  so  vivid  in 


WHAT  PAT  DOYLE  BROUGHT  HOME.     279 

their  minds.  Yielding  themselves  fully  to  this  cause  of 
merriment,  they  laughed  until  their  streaming  eyes  and 
aching  sides  finally  brought  the  quiet  of  exhaustion. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

WHAT  PAT  DOYLE  BROUGHT  HOME. 

IT  was  nearly  ten  o'clock.  Her  mistress  had  retired  to 
her  room  for  the  night,  and  Aziel  Loyd  was  sitting 
alone,  waiting  for  the  return  of  Doyle,  who  was  already 
absent  far  beyond  his  allotted  time.  It  was  neither  his 
delay  nor  any  fear  for  his  safety  that  busied  Aziel's  mind 
as  she  sat  with  folded  hands  looking  so  thoughtfully  into 
the  fire  dying  out  with  a  farewell  feeble  glow  upon  the 
hearth.  There  was  much  for  this  woman  to  think  of 
with  fear  and  trembling  as  the  events  of  the  past  few 
days  crowded  upon  her  for  consideration,  threatening  her 
with  any  other  result  than  that  which  it  was  her  anxious 
desire  to  accomplish.  She  had  thus  far  planned  well,  she 
believed,  but  how  easy  it  was  for  all  her  precautions  and 
schemes  to  be  brought  to  naught  by  circumstances  beyond 
her  control  !  There  was  so  much  to  be  guarded  against 
that  could  happen,  after  all,  despite  the  sleepless  vigilance 
with  which  she  was  endeavoring  to  avert  the  evil  that 
menaced  not  only  those  she  loved,  but  herself  as  well  as 
them — ay,  even  more,  perhaps.  The  evil  that  hung  over 
herself!  What  made  this  thought  suddenly  blanch  her 
cheek  and  bring  into  her  face  that  look  of  dread  \\;hich, 
stronger  or  fainter,  was  ever  upon  it  when  she  was  alone? 
Why,  at  the  suggestion  of  this  personal  danger,  had  she 
lost  her  resolute  bearing  and  clasped  her  hands  with  a 
gesture  of  alarm,  and  glanced  so  quickly  behind  her,  as 
if  she  were  fearing  some  apparition  standing  at  yonder 
outer  door?  Why  did  she  listen  so  intently,  her  eyes  rest 
less  with  an  apprehension  that  made  her  whole  frame 
shudder  as  if  she  were  hearing  some  foreboding  voice  in 
the  wind's  low  moan  or  a  stealthy  footfall  walking  beneath 
the  window.  No,  she  must  be  mistaken.  Those  were 


280  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

sounds  of  neither  voice  nor  footsteps.  It  must  have 
been  only  the  wind  she  heard  sighing  through  the  great 
elm  that  overspread  the  house,  or  beating  with  more  fit 
ful  gusts  upon  the  lilac-bushes  that  stood  beside  the  door. 

Sighing  now  more  plaintively  than  the  wind  had  ever 
done,  she  turned  again  toward  the  fire.  Her  face,  weary 
and  sad,  fell  upon  her  bosom.  Too  well  she  knew  that  it 
was  in  her  own  heart,  so  tremulous  with  the  secrets  of 
the  past,  she  heard  this  voice  and  this  footstep.  They 
were  always  the  accompaniments  of  her  nightly  dreams 
and  daily  solitudes.  But  was  she  ever  to  be  thus  in  dread 
of  them,  foreshadowing  as  they  did  his  image  by  day  and 
by  night?  Or  would  they  again  be  a  signal  to  her,  as  of 
old,  of  joy  and  of  peace?  Would  he  some  day  be  as 
when  she  had  first  known  him  ?  She  stopped  short  here, 
checking  these  thoughts  with  a  white,  scared  look,  such  as 
would  have  come  to  her  face  if  she  had  suddenly  found  her 
self  standing  on  the  brink  of  some  yawning  precipice.  With 
the  trifle  of  a  shudder,  she  slowly  drew  her  hand  across  her 
brow.  There  was  forced  to  her  countenance  a  vacant  stare, 
as  if  she  were  making  a  violent  effort  to  forget  herself  for 
a  moment — as  if  she  were  striving  to  banish  then  and  for 
ever  these  thoughts  which  had  sounded  such  a  dangerous 
alarm  in  her  quickly-responding  conscience.  The  strug 
gle  was  short  and  decisive.  For  an  instant  a  look  of 
quivering  pain  shot  across  her  pallid  features.  She  put 
out  her  hands  gropingly,  as  if  she  were  fain  to  let  go  the 
dearest,  most  cherished  wish  of  her  heart.  Then  came  a 
smothered  cry  of  anguish,  such  as  he  who  sinks  to  death 
beneath  the  black  waves  of  the  starless  sea  might  utter. 
Her  head  fell  forward  into  the  clasp  of  her  cold,  rigid 
hands  as  she  murmured  wailingly,  though  with  a  tremu 
lous  firmness  that  told  of  victory, 

"  Good-bye  for  ever,  Seth  !  God  helping  me,  good-bye 
for  ever !" 

The  night-wind  bore  this  last  relinquished  hope  of  a 
woman's  broken  heart  onward  through  the  storm,  higher 
up  through  the  black  clouds,  far  beyond  the  motionless 
ether,  and  laid  it  at  the  gate  of  heaven.  And  lie  who 
watched  there  took  it  up  with  happy  face  and  placed  it  in 
his  bosom,  as  if  it  were  a  priceless  gem  cast  that  way  by 


WHAT  PAT  DOYLE  BROUOIIT  HOME.          281 

one  of  the  radiant  figures  who  stood  upon  the  shining 
battlements  above  him.  Down  to  earth  again  swept  the 
wind  with  a  roar,  rushing  over  hill  and  plain,  bending 
beneath  its  strong  embrace  the  giants  of  the  forest  and 
hurling  before  it  with  maddened  shriek  the  branches  of 
trees  that  would  not  yield  it  homage.  At  last,  with  a 
hollow  moan,  it  rested  for  a  moment  in  the  farm-house 
elm,  and  then,  with  a  broken  sigh,  kissed  the  lilac-bushes 
and  went  on  in  silence  through  the  darkness,  leaving  the 
woman  no  sound  to  listen  to  save  the  ceaseless  pour  of 
the  rain,  that  came  with  no  steadier  flow  than  did  her 
own  sad  tears. 

So  absorbed  was  Aziel  in  thus  giving  vent  to  her  sor 
row  and  finding  a  dim  pleasure  even  in  these  tears — for 
they,  relieved  a  grief  she  could  find  no  expression  for  in 
words — that  she  did  not  hear  a  heavy,  uncertain  step  as 
it  trudged  up  the  graveled  walk.  Nor  did  she  catch  the 
muffled  voice  of  a  man,  speaking  now  in  soothing  tones, 
and  now  in  louder  exclamations  of  distress.  It  was  only 
when  the  wavering  stride  had  stumbled  upon  the  door 
step,  as  if  bending  beneath  some  burden,  and  the  door 
itself  had  been  suddenly  flung  wide  open,  that  she  sprang 
from  her  chair  with  a  cry  of  alarm.  A  short,  stifled  cry 
it  was,  that  instantly  died  away  in  silence  as  she  saw 
Doyle,  with  pale  face  and  staring  eyes,  standing  before 
her  with  the  motionless  and  drenched  figure  of  a  woman 
clasped  in  his  arms. 

"  Whisht,  whisht !"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  in  token 
of  silence,  and  with  as  reassuring  a  look  as  his  agitation 
could  command,  as  Aziel  came  quickly  toward  him  with 
a  face  as  pale  and  affrighted  as  his  own.  "It's  not  a 
sperrit  I  am,  Misthress  Loyd.  Don't  be  so  freckened. 
It's  me  livin'  self  that's  howldin'  in  me  arms  the  poor 
colleen  of  the  miser's  hut  beyant,  lyin'  murdhered  in  the 
road.  Oh,  wirra,  wirra  !  Here  she  is,  the  dear  crather, 
pale  and  bleedin'  and  cold.  May  the  divil  fly  away  wid 
the  vagabond  that  struck  her  the  blow  !" 

"  Murdered  !"  gasped  Aziel  with  a  shudder,  laying  her 
trembling  hand  upon  the  wet  head  that  rested  so  motionless 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  gently  turning  the  face  to  view 
— Emily's  face,  down  one  side  of  which  trickled  a  flow  of 

24  * 


282  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

blood,  appearing  all  the  more  crimson  by  contrast  with 
the  death-like  paleness  that  overspread  every  feature. 

"Yes,  murthered  she  was  intirely,"  assured  Pat  in  a 
hoarse  whisper  as,  in  response  to  a  silent  gesture  from  the 
woman,  he  carried  the  insensible  maiden  over  to  the 
lounge  and  laid  her  reverently  down  upon  it,  "though  it's 
brathin'  a  partin'  thrifle  o'  air  she  is  now.  Shure,"  he 
added,  crossing  himself  and  with  a  deep  solemnity  in  his 
voice  as  a  gurgling  sigh  issued  from  the  ashen  lips  of 
the  girj,  "that  the  last  good-bve  to  'arth  her  sow!  be's 
givin'-" 

"  flurry !  Fetch  me  some  cold  water,"  interrupted 
Aziel,  who  was  already  kneeling  beside  Emily  and  loosen 
ing  the  folds  of  the  sufferer's  dress,  to  aid  the  fluttering 
respiration  she  had  felt  as  she  touched  the  silent  lips  with 
a  tender  kiss.  Meanwhile,  Aziel  had  gently  taken  Em 
ily's  head  on  her  arm  and  pushed  back  from  her  forehead 
the  dark  and  clotted  hair  that  streamed  over  it.  Thus 
disclosing  the  wound,  she  saw,  with  a  relief  which  gave 
voice  to  itself  in  a  suppressed  exclamation  of  joy,  that  it 
Mas  only  a  long,  jagged  flesh-cut  over  the  temple,  and  that 
already  the  flow  of  blood  was  ceasing. 

"  Here's  the  wather,  Misthress  Loyd,"  whispered  Pat, 
striding  on  tip  toe  to  her  side,  "  an'  ivery  dhrop  o'  it  is  a 
blissed  prayer  from  meself  fur  the  dyin'  sowl  o'  her." 

Aziel  began  to  gently  sprinkle  the  upturned,  quiet  face, 
which  as  yet  gave  no  signs  of  consciousness,  though  the 
cool  drops  fell  all  over  it.  With  a  more  copious  hand  she 
repeated  the  experiment,  speaking  softly  in  the  girl's  ear 
and  calling  her  by  name. 

"  It's  fur  iver  thim  lips  is  closed,"  murmured  Pat,  in 
tently  watching  the  effect  of  the  water,  and  holding  the 
pail  at  arm's  length  in  his  two  hands.  "  Shure,  it  was 
God's  own  callin'  voice  she  answered  wid  thim  purty  lips 
in  the  road  beyant  a  while  ago  whin  the  murdherin'  vil 
lain  sthruck  her  the  blow  o'  death.  The  divil  sweep 
him  off  the  earth  and  into  the  depths  below !" 

It  was  some  time  before  Aziel's  efforts  were  rewarded 
with  any  success,  even  ever  so  trifling.  At  last,  however, 
a  little  convulsive  shudder  passed  over  the  slight  figure  of 
the  sleeper;  there  was  a  faint  twitching  at  her  lips;  her 


WHAT  PAT  DOYLE  BROUGHT  HOME.          283 

head  stirred  with  a  feeble,  uneasy  motion,  and  her  quiver 
ing  eyelids  finally  opened  themselves,  disclosing  for  an  in 
stant  a  vague,  wandering  look,  which  was  as  soon  shut  out 
again  by  the  sudden  falling  of  the  lids. 

"  Did  ye  mind  the  awful  sthare  o'  her,  Misthress  Loyd?" 
said  Pat  in  a  hoarse,  frightened  tone,  suddenly  setting  the 
pail  upon  the  floor  and  withdrawing  a  few  steps  with  an 
expression  of  horror  upon  his  face.  "  Shure,  it's  thriflin' 
wid  God's  own  will  ye  are,  tryin'  to  bring  back  her  spirit, 
Misthress  Loyd,  whin  this  blessed  minit  it's  on  its  way 
to  the  holy  heavens;"  and  rapidly  crossing  himself,  he 
gazed  steadily  upward,  as  if  he  were  indeed  beholding 
the  flight,  of  her  soul  to  the  spirit-land. 

Again  the  drooping  lids  of  the  girl  quivered ;  this  time 
opening  themselves  slowly  and  widely  with  less  spasmodic 
action,  and  disclosing  a  struggling  look  of  returning  in 
telligence.  But  as  soon  as  her  eyes  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Aziel's  overhanging  face,  the  girl's  body  gave  a  startled 
motion  and  her  lips  suddenly  parted,  as  if  she  would  give 
vent  to  a  scream ;  but  exhaustion  only  gave  expression  to 
her  alarm  in  a  deep-drawn  sigh  as  she  again  closed  her 
eyes  and  a  perceptible  tremor  ran  over  her  frame. 

"  Shure,  Misthress  Loyd,  it's  a  moighty  sin  ye  be  doin', 
now  mark  me  word  !"  and  there  was  an  excited  tone  of 
warning  in  the  Irishman's  voice.  "It's  callin'  back  her 
sowl  ye  are,  whin  the  good  God  has  it  an'  her  own  body 
be's  tellin'  ye  it  cannot  come.  Troth,  a  leprechaun  him 
self  couldn't  brathe  life  in  her  now.  A  wake  an'  the  grave 
is  all  that's  lift  fur  her  sweet  body.  God  kape  it  kindly 
till  the  ind  o'  the  wurld,  say  I,  an'  it's  iver  pray  in'  I'll 
be  fur  her  sowl." 

Notwithstanding  the  man's  funereal  predictions,  Aziel 
did  not  cease  to  do  everything  to  bring  back  the  girl  to 
consciousness.  With  the  cooling  water  she  softly  sprinkled 
Emily's  face,  speaking  to  her  in  soothing  tones  as  she 
gently  bathed  the  wound,  wiping  away  all  traces  of  blood 
and  laying  upon  the  cut  a  fold  of  cloth,  over  which  she 
bound,  with  a  slight  pressure,  her  own  handkerchief. 
These  ministrations  tended  slowly  to  restore  the  patient. 
She  breathed  more  heavily,  and  a  long-drawn  sigh  came 
from  her  lips.  Ere  long  she  again  opened  her  eyes. 


284  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

With  a  look  of  mingled  fear  and  dismay  she  caught 
Aziel's  hand,  and  exclaimed,  in  broken,  half-coherent 
sentences,  as  she  looked  wildly  around, 

"  Oh,  save  him  !  Father  !  The  man  is  killing  him  ! 
Quick!  Help!  Save  him!  Father,  father!" 

Then,  suddenly  overcome  by  this  effort,  her  voice  and 
her  strength  failed  her,  and  she  sank  again  insensible  in 
her  companion's  arms. 

"Oh,  the  blessed  Vargin  save  us!"  said  Pat  in  a  husky 
voice.  "Is  it  murdher  she  is  tellin'  us  that's  goin'  on 
at  the  hut  beyant?  Arrah,  by  the  same  token,  it  wor  the 
uligaun  I  heard  this  very  night  as  I  wor  comin'  through 
the  woods  forninst  the  miser's  hut.  Och,  wirra,  wirra  ! 
God  save  the  owld  skinflint,  if  it's  his  life  thev  be's 
takin'." 

"  What  was  it  you  heard  ?  Where  did  you  find  her  ?" 
asked  Aziel,  turning  for  an  instant  to  question  the  man, 
and  then  redoubling  her  efforts  at  resuscitation. 

"  It  wor  comin'  through  the  woods  I  wor,  betwixt 
O'Hara's  and  the  road  beyant,"  replied  Pat  in  a  dry  and 
hollow  tone,  "  when  me  heart  lepped  in  me  mouth,  fur,  be 
me  sowl,  it  wor  the  uligaun  I  hearn  in  the  tree-tops  over 
me  head — " 

"  The  '  uligaun.'  What's  that  ?"  interrupted  Aziel  with 
a  touch  of  alarm  in  her  voice  when  she  saw  how  grave 
and  rueful  was  his  face. 

"  Faix,  it's  not  much  larnin'  I  have  lyin'  heavy  on  me 
sthomaeh,  Misthress  Loyd,"  he  answered  with  a  low,  def 
erential  shake  of  his  head  ;  "  but  troth  I  know  the  uligaun 
is  the  funeral  cry — the  warnin'  o'  death  ;"  and  his  voice 
uttered  the  last  words  with  a  sepulchral  gasp,  and  casting 
up  his  eyes  with  a  pious  look,  he  slowly  crossed  himself, 
his  lips  moving  in  prayer. 

"Oh,  save  him,  save  him  !"  suddenly  exclaimed  Emily, 
with  eyes  still  closed,  and  throwing  her  arms  wildly  about 
and  speaking  slowly,  as  if  she  were  struggling  with  some 
terrible  vision.  "That  bad  man  is  killing  father.  I  see 
him  standing  at  the  door,  and  father — dear  father — lying 
dead  at  his  feet.  Yes,  I  see  him,"  her  voice  growing 
stronger — "a  tall  man  with  black  eyes  and  white  face. 
There's  a  black  beard  upon  his  lips  and  chin." 


WHAT  PAT  DOYLE  BROUGHT  HOME.          285 

She  uttered  not  another  word,  for  Aziel,  with  a  sudden 
energy  as  strange  as  it  was  excited,  was  already  shaking 
her,  laying  her  hand  with  a  nervous  pressure  upon  Em 
ily's  still-moving  lips. 

She  called  her  name  in  a -sharp,  quick  tone  that  vibrated 
with  the  terror  now  depicted  in  her  own  face,  even  whiter 
than  the  girl's  had  been.  No  need  of  further  description 
to  tell  her  who  this  man  was  or  add  one  jot  to  the  horri 
ble  apprehension  that  had  flashed  upon  her  mind.  And 
vet  her  heart  as  suddenly  recoiled  from  the  thought  that 
Seth  Slade  had  done  such  a  wicked  deed.  No,  no  !  He 
might  have  committed  robbery,  but  not  murder.  What 
should  she  do  ?  Emily  was  silent  enough  now,  but  she 
would  soon  speak  again.  No  one  but  herself  must  hear 
her  further  revelations.  Aziel  turned  to  the  Irishman, 
and  evading  the  meaning,  questioning  look  on  his  awe- 
stricken  face  said,  in  a  whisper  of  forced  calmness, 

"Something  has  happened  to  this  girl's  father.  Are 
you  afraid  to  saddle  the  horse  and  ride  down  to  his  hut  to 
see  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"Afraid,  is  it  ye  ask  me  I  am?"  he  replied  after  a  pause, 
during  which  his  face  had  grown  deathly  white  and  his 
knees  smote  together.  "Snure,  it's  not  the  divil  him 
self,  wid  his  red-hot  pitchfork,  that  cud  frighten  Patrick 
Doyle." 

"  You  will  go,  then,  by  yourself,  and  come  straight 
back  and  tell  me  all  you  see?"  she  asked,  looking  up  at 
him  with  an  impatient,  pleading  face. 

"  Yis,  it's  go  I  will,"  he  said  with  a  courageous  shake 
of  his  head  ;  "an'  it's  me  own  honest  heart  an'  me  good 
shillelah  that  will  define!  me  agin  man  an'  divil." 

"  Hurry,  then  !"  putting  out  her  hands  imploringly. 
"  Heaven  will  protect  you.  But  stop  !"  catching  his  arm 
as  he  was  moving  away,  and  speaking  to  him  with  greater 
earnestness.  "Promise  me,  Patrick,  you  will  never  tell 
any  one  what  you  heard  this  girl  saying  just  now.  It  was 
only  a  dream,  you  know." 

"  People's  dhrames  are  their  own  blessed  property,"  he 
said  with  a  nod  as  comprehensive  as  the  significant  ex 
pression  of  his  countenance ;  "  an'  it's  Patrick  Doyle's 
tongue  as  can  sleep  when  he  bids  it." 


286  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"  How  good  you  are,  Patrick !"  and  Aziel  seized  his 
hand  with  a  grateful  pressure.  "  Before  you  go  I  wish 
you  would  carry  her  up  to  my  room.  It's  dangerous  for 
her  to  lie  here  longer  in  her  wet  clothes.  First,  though, 
let  me  give  her  something  to  make  her  sleep  quietly  until 
morning." 

As  Aziel  held  the  sleeping-potion  to  the  girl's  lips  and 
softly  bid  her  drink  it,  Emily  did  so,  slowly  opening  her 
eve-,  and  with  something  like  a  glance  of  recognition  mur 
mured,  half  articulately, 

"His  mother!     You  will  love  me!" 

The  woman  answered  with  a  soothing  kiss  as  the  eyes 
closed  with  the  faintest  smile,  and  the  lips  again  were 
silent. 

"  Take  her  gently  in  your  arms,"  said  Aziel  to  the  man, 
who,  in  obedience  to  her  gesture,  was  already  bending 
over  the  girl  with  a  compassionate  face. 

"Troth,  it's  handlin'  her  gently  I'd  be  as  if  she  wor 
an  angel  made  o'  glass,"  whispered  Pat,  slowly  raising 
the  body  and  following  Aziel,  who,  light  in  hand,  led 
the  way  up  stairs,  her  eyes  never  once  off  the  girl's 
face. 

On  reaching  the  upper  landing  they  were  met  by  Mrs. 
Gagger,  who  was  so  astonished  by  the  strange  group  that 
she  could  only  stand  and  look  at  them  with  a  silent,  ques 
tioning  stare. 

"  It's  the  miser's  daughter,"  said  Aziel  in  an  under 
tone,  with  a  gesture  of  silence.  "  Patrick  found  her 
lying  in  the  road,  and  brought  her  here.  I  will  tell  you 
all  about  it  as  soon  as  we  have  laid  her  in  bed." 

The  man  deposited  his  burden  on  the  couch,  and  in 
response  to  a  whispered  word  from  Aziel  went  out  and 
left  the  two  women  alone  with  the  sleeper.  In  a  short 
time  they  had  silently  disrobed  her.  As  they  were  doing 
this  Aziel,  unnoticed  by  her  companion,  deftly  secreted  in 
her  own  pocket  a  letter  which  fell  from  the  loosened  folds 
of  the  girl's  dress.  At  last  they  laid  her  down  peacefully 
at  rest,  a  faint  flush  upon  her  checks  and  the  red  tide 
again  tinging  her  half-closed  lips. 

"She  is  very  beautiful.  Xo  wonder  he  loved  her," 
said  Mrs.  Gagger,  casting  a  parting  look  of  admiration  at 


WHAT  PAT  DOYLE  BROUGHT  HOME.     287 

the  girl  as  they  passed  softly  out  into  the  hall,  leaving  the 
door  slightly  ajar  behind  them.  "  Come  into  my  room 
now/'  speaking  to  Aziel,  "and  tell  me  what  has  happened. 
You  know  I  have  said  several  times  to-day  that  I  had 
a  presentiment  of  evil.  Can  it  be  possible — 

She  stopped  short,  caught  at  her  heart,  and  looked  at 
Aziel  with  a  fear  as  well  defined  in  her  countenance  as  to 
its  object  as  words  could  have  expressed  it.  Aziel  quickly 
swayed  the  candle  in  front  of  her  own  face,  so  that  the 
other  could  not  see  in  it  the  half-suppressed  response  to 
her  suspicion  as  to  who  had  been  this  night  working  this 
evil  at  the  miser's  cottage. 

"Hark!  there  comes  Patrick.  We  shall  know  all  now," 
Aziel  whispered  with  averted  face  as  she  thrust  the  candle 
into  Mrs.  Gagger's  hand  and  went  swiftly  down  the  stair 
case.  In  another  moment  she  wras  standing  at  the  open 
door,  gazing  with  a  white,  agitated  face  at  the  swaying 
lantern,  which  was  borne  up  the  lane  at  a  rapid  rate. 

"  Is  it  ye,  Misthress  Loyd?"  exclaimed  Doyle  in  a  husky, 
excited  voice  as  he  leaped  from  the  horse  and  stood  in  front 
of  her,  a  broad  smile  of  relief  upon  his  perspiring  face. 
"  Shure,  it's  good  news  I  have.  Divil  a  murdher  is  there 
at  all,  at  all.  There's  nayther  hide  nor  hair  o'  a  sowl  in 
the  hut  beyant.  Ould  Gruntle's  gone,  and  the  dog  wid 
him." 

"  The  miser  gone  ?  Are  you  sure?  Did  you  look  every 
where  for  him  ?" 

"Troth,  it's  sware  a  hole  in  an  iron  pot  I  could  that  he's 
gone.  Faix,  it's  all  through,  the  hut  I  wor,  from  the  cellar 
to  the  garret,  wid  me  Ian  them,  in  ivery  nook  o'  the  dhirty 
place.  It's  the  colleen's  own  door  I  broke  wid  a  blow  o' 
me  foot.  An'  it's  nayther  ould  Gruntle  nor  the  dog  I 
found,  nor,"  lowering  his  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper, 
"  the  other  divil's  limb  that  the  purty  colleen  tould  us 
a  while  ago  wor  wid  him." 

"  Did  you  search  the  barn  and  all  around  the  garden  ?" 
Aziel  asked,  as  if  she  could  not  yet  trust  the  hope  that 
began  to  illumine  her  face. 

"Indeed  did  I,  wid  eyes  as  sharp  as  briers.  Shure,  it's 
not  tindin'  his  sthock  nor  cultivatin'  his  garden  Mr. 
Gruntle  is  doin'  this  night.  It's  i very wh ere  I  searched 


288  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN.    ' 

for  him,  an'  not  a  clap  o'  me  eyes  on  the  ould  faggot  did 
I  get  for  me  throuble." 

"  I  wonder  what  has  become  of  him  ?"  she  said,  speak 
ing  more  to  herself  than  to  the  other. 

"  What's  become  o'  him  ?"  echoed  Pat  with  a  solemn 
voice  and  a  wise  shake  of  his  head.  "  Faix,  it's  me  own 
opinion  that  the  divil  has  taken  his  own  this  night  an' 
flew  away  wid  him,  dog  an'  all !" 

"  Let  us  hope  that  he  is  not  so  badly  off  as  that.  We 
may  be  able  to  trace  his  whereabouts  to-morrow.  You 
have  done  bravely  to-night,  Pat.  I  thank  you  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart,"  as  she  shook  his  hand  and  bade  him 
good-night. 

"  Arrah  !  For  the  loikes  of  ye,  Misthress  Loyd.  I  wud 
go  to  the  inds  o'  the  'arth,  an'  take  a  smell  o'  sulphur 
besides.  It's  almost  the  aqual  ye  are  o'  Mary  O'Hara, 
Heaven  bliss  the  little  desaiver !"  and  with  a  modest  look 
of  admiration  at  his  companion,  he  took  the  bridle-rein  of 
his  horse  in  his  hand  and  went  on  toward  the  barn. 

When  Aziel  turned  and  shut  the  door,  she  found  Mrs. 
Gagger  close  beside  her.  She  had  heard  all.  Their  coun 
tenances  met,  but  on  each  was  the  look  of  relief  the  other 
understood. 

Seth  Slade  would  have  laughed  heartily  had  he  known 
how  easily  convinced  they  were  that  he  had  committed  no 
evil  this  night,  at  least. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

UNEXPECTED  REVELATIONS. 

first  sign  of  returning  consciousness  that  Nicholas 
JL  Grundle  felt  was  a  feeble  sensation  of  being  asleep — 
a  sensation  as  yet  so  dull,  so  faint,  in  its  effect  upon  the 
suspended  state  of  his  nervous  sensibilities  that  it  made 
no  definite  impression  upon  his  brain  or  roused  within  it 
the  slightest  effort  at  thought.  Bodily  functions  and  in 
telligence  alike  seemed  floating  in  an  existence  intangible 
to  the  apprehension  of  the  deadened  nerves  and  relaxed 


UNEXPECTED  REVELATIONS.  289 

muscles.  But  as  the  brain,  slowly  wakening,  began  to 
stir  in  the  mysterious  depths  of  its  being,  and  grope  about 
amid  the  shapeless  fantasies  that  crowded  in  upon  it,  the 
miser  gradually  became  aware  that  he  was  not  sleeping, 
but  dreaming.  Lying  upon  his  back  he  must  be,  dream 
ing  troublous,  horrible  dreams  that  grew  more  startling 
every  instant.  Malignant  faces  were  peering  into  his  eyes 
and  laughing  hoarsely  and  tauntingly  in  his  ears,  whisper 
ing  threatening  words  the  fearful  meaning  of  which  he 
could  not  wholly  apprehend.  Where  was  he  lying,  to  be 
so  restless  as  this?  Surely  such  a  nightmare  had  never 
before  come  to  him  in  his  bed.  Yet  where  else  could  he 
be?  For, he  was  sleeping  so  soundly  that,  try  as  he  did, 
with  all  his  might,  to  waken  himself,  he  could  neither 
speak  nor  move.  On  the  contrary,  he  became  vividly  con 
scious  of  two  facts — that  he  was  fast  asleep  and  powerless 
to  awake.  Meanwhile,  the  fiends,  changing  their  distorted 
forms  at  will,  danced  and  gesticulated  more  madly  around 
and  over  him.  They  shrieked  and  laughed,  pulled  his 
hair  and  pinched  him,  and  blew  smoke  and  fire  into  his 
face,  that  could  not  turn  itself  away  a  hair's  breadth  from 
this  torment.  They  told  him,  with  hiss  and  howl,  how 
completely  they  had  him  in  their  power.  Shriek i ugly 
they  threatened  that  soon  they  would  fly  with  him  to  their 
deep,  dark  cavern  of  endless  torture,  far  down  in  the 
earth,  which  was  opening  already  at  his  very  side  with  a 
black,  yawning  chasm.  Terrified,  he  struggled  to  roll 
away  from  this  awful  brink,  which  nearer  came,  and 
nearer  still.  But  his  legs  were  lead,  his  arms  iron,  and  a 
great  weight  on  his  chest  pressed  him  more  closely  to  the 
ground. 

At  last,  as  a  fiend  more  hideous  than  the  others  caught 
his  throat  in  two  skeleton  hands  that  dripped  with  warm 
blood  and  drew  him  down  upon  the  chasm's  slippery  edge, 
he  made  one  mighty  effort  to  escape.  With  this  convul 
sive  motion  of  his  body  there  came  a  violent  shock  to 
him,  as  if  a  sharp  blow  had  been  struck  upon  his  head. 
There  was  a  snapping  explosion  at  the  base  of  his  brain, 
like  that  of  a  pistol,  and  an  electric  flash  ran  along  his 
spine.  Instantly,  but  with  no  volition  on  his  part,  his 
eyes  opened.  But  they  again  closed  as  quickly,  for  they 

2f>  T 


290  AS  IT  MA  Y  IIAPPES. 

had  seen  nothing  ami  their  lids  were  heavy.  But  the 
dream  was  over.  The  frightful  voices  no  longer  made  the 
darkness  vibrate  with  unseen  terrors.  The  dreadful  fig 
ures  had  vanished.  A  grateful  sense  of  relief,  which  his 
persistent  sleepiness  did  not  wholly  efface,  stole  over  him, 
for  his  mind  faintly  struggled  to  retain  this  idea  of  de 
liverance  from  danger.  He  remained  in  this  state  of  de 
licious  drowsiness  a  long  while,  conscious  onlv  of  a  dim 
sensation  of  quiet  existence.  And  certainly  he  looked  in 
blissful  rest,  lying  there  as  calm  as  any  child.  His  head 
rested  upon  his  outstretched  arm,  and  his  face,  over  which 
gleamed  the  dull  light  of  the  fire,  was  placid  in  everv  fea 
ture,  a  trifle  of  a  smile  lingering  around  his  mouth.  Sud 
denly  he  gave  a  start,  though  no  noise  or  outward  dis 
turbance  had  given  him  cause  for  such  a  quick  outward 
movement  of  his  hand,  which  groped  above  his  head  an 
instant,  and  then  fell  limp  upon  the  floor.  Whether  it 
were  the  falling  of  this  hand  or  the  passing  blast  of  the 
tempest,  something  had  aroused  him.  He  opened  his 
eyes  again.  This  time  there  was  an  expression  of  reviving 
intelligence  in  them,  though  nothing  beyond  a  questioning 
gaze,  with  which  he  looked  steadily  before  him. 

Presently  the  fireplace,  slowly  outlining  itself  in  his 
vision,  definitely  fixed  itself  on  his  glimmering  conscious 
ness,  and  by  the  power  of  association  began  to  tell  him 
where  he  was.  These  old  brass  andirons  looked  very 
like  his  own  ;  only,  as  he  bent  his  eyes  upon  them,  they 
began  to  whirl  about  and  dance  as  the  fiends  had  done  in 
his  dreams.  Was  he  still  asleep,  or  was  he  awake?  He 
slowly  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and  put  his  hand  to 
his  head,  which  was  dizzier  now,  and  full  of  ringing 
sounds,  such  as  those  made  by  the  clanging  of  distant 
bells.  He  knew  his  eyes  were  open,  but  he  saw  nothing, 
only  a  dull,  confused  light,  in  which  were  shadows  and 
shapes  and  tiny  clouds.  Pie  swayed  to  and  fro,  his  brain 
growing  dizzier  still,  and  a  deathly  nausea  coming  over 
him.  He  fell  back  upon  the  floor  with  something  like  a 
moan,  and  again  lay  rigid  and  lifeless.  But  not  long  did 
he  remain  so.  The  wind,  scudding  through  the  open 
door,  tossed  his  locks  over  his  face  and  sported  with  his 
withered  rags,  darting  in  and  out  upon  his  shriveled 


UNEXPECTED  REVELATIONS.  291 

limbs  until  such  a  cold  shiver  ran  over  him  that  he 
a\voke,  this  time  with  a  vigorous  movement  and  a  sudden 
alertness  of  attention.  Where  was  that  eold  draught  coming 
from?  Was  his  window  raised  ?  He  started  up  on  his 
elbow,  and,  with  something  of  the  old  shrewdness  coming 
back  to  his  eyes,  shot  a  swift  glance  around  him.  The 
log  in  the  fireplace  fell  apart,  sending  its  bright  expiring 
glow  throughout  the  room.  In  this  light  the  full  rev 
elation  of  who  and  where  he  was  flashed  upon  him,  and 
memory  as  instantly  recalled  the  events  of  the  night, 
though  confusedly  at  first. 

For  a  moment  he  was  dazed,  sitting  now  bolt  upright 
on  the  floor,  his  head  pressed  between  his  hands  and  his 
eyes  staring  wildly  about  him  in  the  dusky  darkness  of 
the,  room.  In  another  instant  his  mind  grew  suddenly 
clear.  With  a  shudder  and  an  exclamation  of  horror  he 
remembered  it  all.  The  stranger,  the  valise,  the  strange 
smell,  the  struggle,  the —  With  a  piteous  cry  he  rose, 
staggering  to  his  feet.  What  a  fearful  suggestion  had 
taken  possession  of  his  thoughts!  His  limbs  shook  so 
he  could  scarcely  stand.  His  breath  was  short  and  thick 
with  suffocating  gasps;  his  heart  seemed  to  be  fluttering 
with  its  very  last  beats.  His  treasure,  his  gold  !  Was  it 
safe,  or  had  the  man  robbed  him?  Pie  was  crying  like  a 
child  now,  feeling  his  way  along  the  side  of  the  room 
toward  the  cellar-door.  When  he  had  reached  it  and  put 
out  lu's  hands  and  found  it  standing  wide  open,  he  gave 
one  long,  despairing  shriek,  as  if  indeed  he  had  gone  mad 
without  recall,  and  dashed  headlong  down  the  stairway. 
Every  sense  was  keenly  active,  and  he  sped  across  the 
cellar-floor  in  the  darkness,  as  certain  in  his  direction  as 
if  the  light  of  day  had  guided  him.  He  seized  hold  of 
the  box.  It  had  been  moved.  With  a  furious  yell  he 
clutched  at  the  wall  to  find  the  movable  stone.  It  was 
not  there;  and  his  arm,  thrust  into  the  cavity  with  a 
deeper  cry  of  misery,  found  neither  bag  nor  remnant  of 
his  treasure.  It  was  gone.  He  had  been  robbed  of  the 
one  only  work  of  his  life — that  which  to  him  was  life 
itself. 

Only  for  an  instant  did  he  stand  struck  dumb  with  the 
immensity  of  his  loss  and  unable  to  give  any  expression 


292  AS  IT  J/J  Y  HAPPEN. 

to  his  grief.  Appalled  and  overwhelmed  though  lie  was, 
his  mind  did  not  \vhollv  forget  its  cunning,  nor  did  the 
hope  of  regaining  his  treasure  entirely  forsake  him.  As 
quickly  as  he  had  come  into  the  cellar,  lie  no\v  made  his 
way  out  of  it.  As  soon  as  he  had  reached  the  room 
above  he  groped  about  for  the  valise.  His  hands  fell 
upon  it;  he  shook  it.  Is  was  still  h-cavy.  Trembling 
and  speechless — for  no  sound  had  escaped  his  lips  since 
he  had  found  his  treasure  gone — he  crept  over  to  the 
mantel.  Here  he  took  a  match  from  the  little  box,  upon 
which  he  readily  laid  his  hand.  Striking-  this,  he  held  it 
in  front  of  him,  and  soon  found  the  candle  on  the  floor. 
Lighting  it,  he  hurried  to  the  woodshed,  giving  the  dog, 
lying  apparently  almost  de;<d,  but  a  passing  glance. 
Seizing  the  axe,  he  came  back  to  the  valise,  and  putting 
down  the  candle  swung  the  weapon  in  the  air.  It  was  a 
series  of  powerful  blows  he  dealt  the  valise — blows  far 
stronger  than  one  would  have  thought  could  come  from 
his  feeble  arms.  Away  across  the  room  flew  the  padlock. 
Into  the  other  locks  the  blade  crushed.  The  valise  fell 
open.  As  it  parted  asunder  the  old  man  threw  aside  the 
axe,  and  dropped  upon  his  knees  in  the  midst  of  the  con 
tents,  which  rolled  out  before  him.  Eagerly  he  seized 
the  largest  and  heaviest  package.  It  was  round  and 
wrapped  in  an  old  newspaper.  He  tore  aside  the  cover 
ing,  and  held  in  his  hand — a  stone!  Onlv  a  stone — a 
common  boulder!  A  hundred  such  one  might  pick  up 
along  the  village  road.  The  miser  made  no  outcry  at 
this  discovery,  nor  did  he  unwrap  another  one  of  the 
parcels  that  the  broken  and  emptv  valise  had  strewed  in 
a  little  pile  upon  the  floor.  Gazing  at  them  with  a  look 
of  stupid  wonder,  he  slowly  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes, 
and  a  light,  husky  laugh  came  in  little  lits  from  his  lips. 
He  shook  his  head  with  a  playful  gesture,  and  laying 
his  hands  upon  his  sides  swayed  forward  and  backward, 
laughing  immoderately  at  this  odd  heap  of  stones,  each 
one  wrapped  in  a  paper.  It  was  a  funny  idea — very 
funny,  indeed.  The  stranger  was  a  joker  in  truth — an 
immensely  funny  man  ! 

His  mirth  ceased  abruptly.     His  face  changed   as  in 
stantly  from  smiles  to  frowns,  from  a  meaningless  stare  to 


UNEXPECTED  REVELATIONS.  293 

a  fearful,  questioning  look,  lie  grasped  the  candle  in 
hands  that  trembled  with  the  apprehension  that  had  seized 
him,  and  ran  toward  the  stairway  which  led  to  the  floor 
above.  Uttering  short  cries  as  piteous  as  those  with  which 
lie  had  hastened  to  the  hiding-place  of  his  treasure  in  the 
cellar,  he  mounted  the  stairway  and  staggered  toward  the 
door  of  Emily's  room.  How  the  kev  shook  in  his  hand 
and  rattled  in  the  lock!  The  cold  perspiration  broke  out 
upon  him,  making  him  shiver  from  head  to  foot,  as  if  he 
were  standing  outside  in  the  storm  without  a  shred  of  cov 
ering.  What  if  she  too  were  gone?  This  awful  fear  so 
took  away  what  little  strength  he  had  that  he  could  hardly 
turn  the  "key,  creaking  with  ominous  resistance,  and  push 
open  the  door.  A  gust  of  wind  flared  the  light  in  his 
hand.  He  tottered  into  the  room,  his  lips  able  only  to 
breathe  out  her  name  as  he  looked  wildly  about  him  and 
saw  that  she  was  gone.  Suddenly  and  strangely  calm  he 
became,  standing  there  like  a  statue,  the  candle  clutched 
in  his  outstretched  hand.  His  eyes  slowly  wandered  about 
the  room  with  a  vacant  gaze,  yet  he  understood  it  all — the 
empty  bed,  the  open  window.  She  had  fled,  and  with  him! 
Leaped  from  this  window  to  run  away  w  th  the  man  who 
had  robbed  her  father !  He  said  never  a  word,  gave  vent 
to  no  exclamation  of  surprise  or  grief.  Onlv  a  stony  and 
threatening  look  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  still  stood  mo 
tionless,  looking  first  at  the  bed  and  then  at  the  window. 
At  last  a  gleam  of  cunning  came  to  his  face.  Over  his 
wrinkles  stole  a  crafty  smile,  deepening  each  instant,  until 
it  had  merged  into  a  spasmodic  laugh  that  rapidly  subsided 
into  a  low,  quiet  chuckle.  He  turned  away  with  a  quick 
step  and  went  down  the  stairs.  He  eagerly  sought  the 
dog,  and  kneeling  down  beside  him  called  his  name  in  a 
loud,  agitated  voice,  snatching  aside  the  white  and  strongly- 
odorous  cloth  which  covered  the  animal's  face.  Ctesar  did 
net  waken.  lie  lay  there  apparently  lifeless,  his  eyes  closed, 
a  stream  of  white  froth  issuing  from  his  clenched  teeth.  Yet 
he  was  breathing,  for  the  old  man,  holding  his  hand  close 
to  the  creature's  mouth,  felt  the  faint  breath  upon  it. 
Caesar's  heart  was  beating.  The  miser  could  feel  its  gentle 
throbbing  under  his  own  tremulous  palm,  laid  upon  the 
animal's  shaggy  chest.  Pie  gently  shook  the  dog,  shout- 


294  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

ing  his  name.  Then,  as  this  hud  no  eiieet  to  arouse  the 
mastiff,  he  fan  and  fetched  a  piteher  of  water,  \vliieh  he 
dashed  upon  the  creature's  head.  This  attempt  was  effect 
ual.  The  dog  turned  himself  slowly  over  upon  his  paws, 
.slightly  raised  his  head,  and  opened  his  eyes  with  a  faint 
growl.  But  he  closed  them  again,  and  his  head  drooped 
to  the  floor.  Grundle  fetched  more  water.  He  bathed 
the  mastiff's  face  with  it,  talking  to  him  all  the  while  in 
affectionate  tones.  Finally,  Cresar  again  opened  his  eyes 
and  gave  a  bark  of  recognition.  Then  he  raised  his  huge 
body  upon  his  feet,  shaking  himself  with  something  of  his 
wonted  vigor.  Patting  the  dog  and  putting  a  pan  of  water 
beside  him.  the  miser  left  him  and  began  to  busy  himself 
actively  about  the  house.  First  he  went  to  his  own  room, 
from  which  he  descended  in  a  short  time  with  a  small, 
well- filled  carpet-bag.  Setting  this  upon  the  floor,  he 
opened  the  chest  of  drawers,  and  selecting  from  them 
several  packages  rolled  them  into  one  and  placed  it  be 
side  the  bag.  All  this  while  his  face  grew  more  cunning 
in  its  glances  and  the  cautious,  meaning  smile  hovered 
steadily  about  his  lips.  He  put  on  his  old  brown  over 
coat  and  his  black,  napless  hat.  He  took  his  hickory 
staff  from  its  corner,  and  with  it  an  umbrella,  faded  and 
dusty.  Tims  equipped,  he  loosened  the  dog's  chain  from 
the  staple.  Holding  one  end  of  this  chain  in  his  hand,  he 
bade  the  animal  follow  him.  Picking  up  his  valise  and 
bundle,  he  went  out  of  the  open  door,  not  so  much  as  once 
stopping  to  look  back  at  the  place  he  was  leaving.  As 
they  were  passing  near  the  grape-vine  under  Emily's  win 
dow  the  mastiff  gave  a  bark  and  tugged  at  his  chain.  The 
old  man  pulled  him  back  and  spoke  sharply  to  him,  but 
Ctesar  only  barked  the  louder,  running  his  nose  along  the 
ground  under  the  grape-vine.  Grundle  stopped  and  drop 
ped  the  chain. 

"Find  out  which  way  she  has  gone  if  you  can,"  he  said, 
pulling  out  a  girl's  shoe  from  his  pocket  and  rubbing  it 
over  the  dog's  no-e. 

Louder  barked  CYe-ar.  He  darted  with  a  whine  beneath 
the  grape-vine,  then  sprang  hither  and  thither  in  the  dark 
ness,  examining  everv  foot  of  ground  around  them.  At 
last,  unable  to  find  the  trail  of  his  mistress — for  the  rain 


AN  EAR£Y  HOUR  AT  THE  FARM-HOUSE.       295 

Irad  obliterated  the  scent,  that  would  have  given  him  guid 
ance — he  crept  to  the  feet  of  his  master  and  whined  pit- 
eously,  as  if  he  thoroughly  comprehended  what  a  failure 
he  had  made. 

"  Never  mind,  Caesar;  you  shall  yet  find  them  for  me," 
said  the  old  man,  patting  him  and  again  taking  his  hold 
upon  the  chain.  "  The  world  is  not  wide  enough  for  them 
to  hide  long  from  us." 

He  went  down  the  garden-path,  past  the  willow  copse, 
taking  the  direction  of  the  railroad,  if  indeed  he  were 
going  to  any  definite  place,  plunging  along  as  he  did 
through  the  rain  and  the  darkness,  laughing  now  and 
then  so  immoderately  that  even  Csesar,  who  was  gravely 
following,  once  broke  out  into  a  hilarious  bark. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

AN  EARLY  HOUR  AT  THE  FARM-HOUSE. 

first  gray  streaks  of  dawn  were  glancing  athwart 
JL  the  sky  when  Aziel  awoke  and  saw  Emily  still 
slumbering  peacefully  beside  her.  She  arose  and  with 
noiseless  steps  made  her  toilet;  then,  softly  drawing 
aside  the  window-curtain,  she  sat  down  at  the  side  of 
the  bed.  Lightly  stroking  the  cheek  of  the  sleeper, 
Aziel  bent  over  her,  and  with  a  face  of  forced  calmness 
awaited  her  awakening.  Soon  there  was  a  long,  quiver 
ing  breath.  Emily  turned  her  head  with  a  slow,  restless 
motion,  and  slowly  opening  her  eyes  fixed  them  updn  the 
watcher  with  a  weary,  questioning  look,  which  gradually 
merged  into  a  faint  smile  of  recognition.  Although  it  was 
evident  from  the  feebleness  of  Emily's  gaze  that  the  effect 
of  the  narcotic  was  still  upon  her,  she  put  out  her  hand 
with  a  groping  gesture  and  laid  hold  of  Aziel's  palm,  slow 
ly  drawing  it  down  to  her  own  cheek  with  a  clinging 
pressure. 

"  Poor  child  !"  murmured  the  woman,  soothingly  caress 
ing  Emily's  hair  with  her  disengaged  hand.  "You  have 
nothing  to  fear  now.  You  are  safe  here." 


296  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

"  Where  am  I  ?"  asketl  Emily,  glancing  around  the 
room  with  a  faint  look  of  wonder,  and  then  nestling  the 
clasped  hand  closer  to  her  face. 

"  Do  you  not  remember/'  said  Aziel  with  a  quiet  smile 
and  in  a  tone  as  calm  as  if  she  were  relating  the  most  ordi 
nary  adventure,  "  that  you  were  frightened  last  night  by 
something  in  your  own  home?  that  you  ran  away  from  the 
house  and  along  the  road,  where  you  fell  upon  a  stone  that 
hurt  you  here/'  pointing  at  the  wound,  "but  not  badly? 
It  was  only  a  flesh-cut.  It  will  soon  be  well." 

The  girl's  memory  had  slowly  recovered  itself  while  the 
woman  was  speaking.  The  passive  look  gradually  died 
out  of  her  face,  for  the  recollection  of  the  night  before, 
imperfect  though  it  was,  aroused  in  her  mind  a  feeling 
of  alarm.  There  came  now  the  quick  comprehension  of 
all  that  had  happened.  Her  father's  cry  for  help  again 
rang  in  her  ears. 

"  My  father!"  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  starting  up  with 
an  affright  that  made  every  feature  pallid  with  anxious  ter 
ror  ;  "  where  is  he  f  Oh,  do  not  tell  me  he  is  dead — " 

"  No,  child !"  quickly  interrupted  Aziel,  laying  her 
hand  upon  the  trembling  girl  with  a  tender  caress. 
"  Nothing  wrong  has  befallen  your  father.  He  is 
alive—" 

"Alive!  Is  he  here?  Oh,  take  me  to  him!"  and 
Emily,  more  excited,  began  to  wring  her  hands  and  cry 
for  very  joy,  beseeching  her  companion  to  no  longer 
keep  her  from  her  father's  sight. 

"You  must  be  calmer,"  replied  Aziel  with  a  look  of 
admonition.  "You  ought  to  be  satisfied  for  the  present 
to  know  that  your  father  is  alive  and  well.  Perhaps  to 
day  you  shall  see  him." 

"  Where  is  he?  Isn't  he  here  ?"  she  asked,  trying  to 
repress  her  tears,  though  her  voice  was  still  agitated,  and 
her  look  of  anxious  solicitude  grew  more  earnest  as  her 
companion  replied  to  this  last  question  with  a  negative 
shake  of  the  head. 

"No,  your  father  is  not  here,"  resumed  Aziel.  "Yet 
I  am  sure  you  will  soon  see  him.  But  come!  Now  that 
you  are  assured  your  father  is  safe  from  harm,  tell  me 
what  it  was  that  happened  in  your  home  last  night. 


AN  EARLY  HOUR  AT  THE  FARM-HOUSE.       297 

Knowing  tins,  I  shall  be    the    better    able  to  take   you 
to  your  father." 

It  was  some  moments  before  Emily  could  sufficiently  com 
pose  herself  to  comply  with  this  request,  for  the  terrible 
scenes  through  which  she  had  passed  began  to  be  magnified 
by  her  imagination  as  memory  recalled  them.  That  piercing 
cry  coming  up  from  the  room  below  was  all  that  she  could 
now  think  of.  She  shuddered  and  wept  afresh,  bewailing 
the  fate  of  her  father,  asserting  between  her  choking  sobs 
that  she  should  never  see  him  again.  It  was  only  when 
Aziel  had  again  assured  Emily  that  her  father  was  alive, 
and  had  insisted  upon  the  narration  as  necessary  to  the 
finding-  of  him,  that  the  girl  restrained  the  tumultuous 
expression  of  her  grief,  and  told  in  broken  tones,  trem 
ulous  at  times  with  fear,  the  story  of  the  previous  night. 

A/iel  listened  to  the  narration  with  that  habitual  look 
of  calmness  made  so  easy  to  her  by  the  constant  repression 
of  her  feelings.  There  was  not  the  slightest  change  in 
her  passive  face  as  she  heard  the  description  of  the  stranger, 
the  story  of  his  first  appearance  at  the  miser's  hut,  his  odd 
valise,  his  subsequent  confidential  interviews  with  Nich 
olas  Grundle,  and  of  his  final  visit,  which  had  ended  with 
the  cry  of  "  Murder  !"  and  the  flight,  of  the  girl.  It  was 
only  when  Emily  had  ceased  speaking  that  a  smile  that 
had  a  touch  of  hardness  in  it  came  over  Aziel's  face,  and 
she  said,  in  her  even  voice, 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  this  man  was  an  old  friend  of  your 
father.  They  may  have  had  business  together  which  your 
father  did  not  wish  you  to  hear.  Nor  is  it  unlikely  that 
vou  may  have  merely  imagined  you  heard  your  father  call 
for  help.  You  were  very  much  excited,  you  must  remem 
ber  ;  you  were  in  the  second  story,  and  there  was  a  closed 
door  between  you  and  them.  How  easy  it  was  for  you,  a 
frightened  child,  to  mistake  a  cry  of  carousal  for  one  of 
fear  !  You  should  be  very  careful  how  you  tell  this  story 
to  any  one  besides  myself.  You  might  get  an  innocent  man 
into  trouble.  In  fact,  I  think  you  ought  to  keep  your 
suspicions  a  secret — at  least,  until  they  are  confirmed  by 
something  more  likely  than  what  you  have  been  telling 
me.  And  you  must  confess  they  are  only  suspicions  when 
I  tell  you  that  I  sent  Patrick  Doyle  down  to  your  father's 


298  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

house  soon  after  you  were  brought  here,  and  that  lie  found 
no  trace  of  any  such  scenes  as  you  describe.  He  went  all 
over  your  house  from  cellar  to  garret,  through  the  barn, 
and  everywhere  in  the  garden.  He  saw  nothing  and 
heard  nothing.  He  could  find  neither  your  father  nor 
the  stranger  you  have  described.  What  else  can  you 
think  but  that  these  two  men  went  away  together,  having 
some  business  in  common  known  only  to  themselves  ?" 

"Did  you  say  father  has  gone  away?"  Emily  slowly 
questioned,  with  a  dazed  face,  over  which  was  creeping  a 
white  look  of  dismay. 

"He  may  not  have  gone  faraway,"  replied  the  other, 
consolingly;  "but  it  is  certain  he  was  not  in  his  house, 
nor  anywhere  near  it,  last  night  when  Patrick  was  there. 
Did  you  see  no  signs  yesterday  of  any  preparations  of  his 
for  leaving  his  home  ?" 

"  Yes,  now  I  remember,"  said  the  girl  hesitatingly,  as 
if  she  were  recalling  something  indistinct.  "  He  wras 
alone  nearly  all  day  in  his  room,  working  with  boxes  and 
trunks.  I  heard  him  sav  very  often,  too,  that  we  should 
soon  go  away  to  a  new  home.  He  said  he  would  take  me 
with  him.  Oh,  it  cannot  be,"  she  exclaimed,  as  if  a  sus 
picion  of  desertion  had  suddenly  flashed  upon  her,  "  that 
father  has  gone  and  left  me  alone !  No,  no  !  He  loved 
me  too  much  for  that !"  and  despite  Aziel's  protestations, 
she  burst  into  a  passionate  flood  of  tears,  and  burying  her 
face  in  the  pillow  wept  bitterly. 

"It  is  very  unjust  in  you  to  be  so  ready  to  accuse  your 
father  of  so  cruel  an  act  as  deserting  you,"  said  Aziel, 
tenderly  stroking  the  girl's  head.  "Your  love  for  him 
ought  to  give  you  more  faith  in  his  affection  for  you. 
Why  do  you  not  rather  believe  with  me  that  he  has 
gone  away  only  for  a  short  time,  and  that  he  will  soon 
return  again  to  you?" 

"I  will  believe  it!"  quickly  rejoined  Emily  with  a  little 
burst  of  energy  and  smiling  through  her  tears.  "  Dear 
father!  how  wicked  it  was  for  me  to  doubt  him!  And 
hov  good  in  you  to  tell  me  how  bad  I  was!"  she  added, 
putting  her  arms  around  A/iel's  neck'  and  kissing  her  with 
an  exuberant  thankfulness.  "Oh,  I  know  I  shall  love 
you  more  dearly  every  dav  !  You  are  so  kind  to  me. 


AN  EARLY  HOUR  AT  THE  FARM-HOUSE.       299 

You  nre  so  willing  to  help  me.  But  Volney  told  me." 
she  added  with  a  little  bashful  whisper  as  she  hid  her  face 
in  the  other's  bosom,  "that  you  would  love  me  very  soon, 
and  be  a  mother  to  me  as  well  as  to  him." 

Though  Aziel  hesitated  for  a  moment  to  speak  and  un 
deceive  the  girl,  she  knew  it  was  the  only  course  she  could 
pursue  to  retain  the  confidence  which  Emily  was  reposing 
in  her;  and  retain  it  she  must,  for  the  sake  of  her  boy's 
happiness,  if  not  for  her  own.  So,  though  the  effort  tested 
all  her  powers  of  self-control,  and,  despite  them,  brought 
something  of  the  old  look  of  distress  into  her  face,  she  said 
quietlv,  though  with  a  slight  tremor  in  her  voice, 

"Wh'ydo  you  call  me  his  mother?  I  was  only  his 
nurse.  But  I  love  him  as  much  as  a  mother  could,  and 
will  love  you  the  same  if  vou  will  only  let  me." 

"  You  are  not  his  mother?"  looking  up  into  her  face 
with  a  puzzled  and  half-grieved  expression.  "  I  thought 
you  told  me  yesterday  you  were." 

"No;  you  were  mistaken.  1  don't  remember  that  I 
said  so.  What  interest  could  I  have  had  in  thus  deceiv 
ing  you?"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "But  even  if  I  am  not  his 
mother,  I  c.m  care  for  him  and  yon  the  same  as  if  I  were. 
See,  here  is  his  letter  to  you.  1  took  care  of  it  last  night. 
You  had  better  keep  it  secret  while  you  are  here." 

"  I  am  so  sorry  vou  nre  not  his  mother.  I  was  beginning 
to  love  you  so  much,"  said  E:nilv,  her  frank  face  falling 
with  undisguised  disappointment,  after  she  had  hidden  the 
letter,  with  a  faintly-blushing  glance,  beneath  the  pillow 
and  again  looked  up  at  her  companion. 

"Cannot  you  love  me  still  for  what  I  have  been  to  him 
and  will  be  to  you  ?"  asked  Aziel.  Eagerly  the  girl  put 
out  her  hands  and  brought  Aziel's  face,  that  had  a  hurt 
and  sorrowful  look  upon  it,  down  to  her  own.  Then,  kiss 
ing  the  trembling  lips,  she  murmured, 

"  Forgive  me,  please.  I  did  not  intend  to  wound  vour 
feelings.  I  will  love  you  just  the  same,  and  you  shall 
love  me,  too,  all  you  can.  Perhaps,"  she  went  on,  af.rr 
the  other  had  silently  returned  her  unbrace,  "  you  can  get 
his  mother  to  love  me.  Do  you  think  she  will?" 

"She  cannot  help  it,"  repl'ed  A/iel,  cheerily,  looking 
ciown  into  the  childish  face  with  a  glance  of  triumph  and 


300  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

admiration.  "She  saw  you  for  the  first  time  last  night 
while  you  were  asleep  here,  and  I  know  you  touched  her 
heart.  This  morning  you  will  see  her,"  lowering  her 
voice,  "  but  you  must  not  expect  too  much  of  her  at  rirst. 
Give  her  love  time  to  grow,  and  it  will  be  all  the  stronger 
for  your  waiting.  But  we  cannot  talk  longer  now.  I 
must  hurry  down  stairs  to  mv  work.  Meanwhile,  you 
can  dress  yourself.  See!"  pointing  to  a  chair  near  by; 
"  here  are  some  clothes  of  mine  I  fixed  for  you  last 
night.  They  may  be  a  little  too  large,  but  they  will 
do  until  your  o\vu  are  thoroughly  dried." 

Kissing  Emily  and  bidding  her  be  of  good  cheer,  Aziel 
left  the  room  and  went  softly  down  stairs,  for  as  vet  there 
was  no  sound  of  rising  in  Mrs.  Gagger's  apartment. 

Going  straight  to  the  kitchen,  Aziel  started  her  fire  and 
hastily  began  her  preparations  for  breakfast,  for  the  old 
clock  striking  seven  with  no  sleepv  chime  admonished  her 
of  delay.  As  she  thus  busied  herself  she  glanced  out  at  the 
barn  several  times,  and  began  to  wonder  why  at  this  late 
hour  there  were  so  fe\v  signs  of  life  about  it.  Its  doors 
were  closed,  and  looking  more  intentlv  now,  she  did  not 
see  Doyle  moving  about  as  usual  witli  his  easy,  shuffling 
step,  nor  did  she  hear  his  morning  song;  for  Patrick 
never  worked  without  singing  persistently  iu  his  loudest 
voice.  Her  curiosity  thoroughly  aroused  by  this  unusual 
quiet,  Aziel  threw  on  her  hood  and  hurried  to  the  barn. 
So  manv  strange  tilings  had  happened  of  late  that  she 
would  not  be  wholly  surprised,  she  thought,  should  she 
find  that  Pat  had  hung  himself  to  a  rafter  in  *a  fit  of 
jealousy.  As  she  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house 
the  sound  of  voices  met  her  ear.  Glancing  down  the  lane 
in  their  direction,  she  saw  a  sight  that  surprised  her  nearly 
as  much  as  Pat's  rigid  body  might  have  done.  A  loaded 
wagon,  piled  high  with  all  sorts  of  furniture,  and  with  a 
cow  tied  behind  it,  was  coming  toward  her,  and  beside  it 
walked  O'Hara,  Doyle  and  Volney  Slade,  all  evidently 
engaged  in  an  excited  conversation. 

As  she  stood  watching  them  with  a  bewildered  gaze, 
and  unable  in  her  astonishment  to  move  a  pace  in  their 
direction,  Doyle  was  the  first  to  catch  sight  of  her.  As 
he  did  so  he  swung  his  hat  with  an  air  of  triumph,  and, 


AN  EARLY  HOUR  AT  THE  FARM-HOUSE.      301 

savin  £  something  to  Volney,  these  two  quickened  their 
steps  and  joined  her. 

"A/id,"  exclaimed  Volncy,  after  his  hasty  greeting  was 
over,  "what  has  happened  here  since  J  went  away?  Pat 
lias  been  telling  me  the  greatest  story  of  horrors  I  ever 
heard,  until  I  hardly  know  whether  I  am  in  the  land  of 
the  living  or  of  the  dead.  First  tell  me,"  the  anxiety  on 
his  face  deepening  and  his  voice  suddenly  becoming  husky, 
"is  it  true  Emily  is  here?'' 

"  Yes,  but  she  is  well.  It  was  only  a  trilling  hurt," 
A/iel  quickly  added,  seeing  the  frightened  look  that  had 
leaped  into  his  face  as  she  spoke  the  word  "yes." 

"  Th;mk  Heaven  for  that!"  he  ejaculated  under  his 
drawn  breath.  "  So  that  Emily  is  safe,  it  matters  little 
to.  me  what  else  has  happened  ;"  and  he  tossed  his  head 
with  a  light  smile  of  indifference. 

"  Shure,  it's  a  foine  lot  o'  furnichure  we've  brought  ye 
so  airly  in  the  mornin',  an'  a  moighty  foine  cow,  barrin' 
her  horns,  Misthress  Loyd,"  interrupted  Dennis  O'Hara, 
who  had  brought  his  cart  to  a  stand-still  in  front  of  the 
group  and  was  bowing  and  scraping  to  Aziel,  with  his  hat 
and  his  head  held  low  before  her.  "  Throth,  if  the  cart 
had  been  bigger,  it's  the  ould  miser's  hut  Pat  wud  a  had 
on  it,  shure." 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  questioned  Aziel,  turn 
ing  to  Doyle,  whose  face  was  in  a  broad  grin  of  satisfaction. 

"By  the  sivin  .blissid  candles,  it's  as  aisy  as  kissin' 
hands  to  tell  how  it  all  Avor  !"  answered  Dovle,  flourish 
ing  his  cap  toward  the  cart.  "An'  it's  meself  that  had 
the  rale  jayneous  to  circumvant  it,  an'  lave  nothin'  for  the 
lawyers,  wid  their  suckin'-power  o'  leeches,  to  lay  their 
dhirty  hands  on  in  the  hut  bey  an  t  of  old  Gruntle's." 

"  Is  this  Mr.  Grundle's  furniture?"  asked  Aziel  with  a 
dumfounded  look  at  the  motley  array  heaped  in  the 
greatest  disorder  upon  the  wagon. 

"  Indade  it  is — nothin'  more  nor  liss.  An'  it's  moighty 
lucky  fur  the  poor  colleen  we  have  it  here  safe  out  o'  the 
grip  o'  the  lawyers,  Heaven  sind  thim  repintance  !  It's 
stalin'  it  they  wud  be  doin'  afore  the  sun  wor  up  an  hour 
higher." 

"  What  right   had  you  to  bring  it  away  ?"   interposed 

2(5 


302  AS  IT  MAY  HArPl-:y. 

Volney  with  a  doubtful  shake  of  his  bead.     "lam  afraid, 

Pat,  this  will  get  you  into  trouble.  Suppose  Mr.  Grumllo 
should  come  back  to-day  ;  what  then  ?  It  is  you  who 
would  be  taken  up  for  stealing,  not  the  lawyers." 

"  Oh,  don't  be  goin'  on  wid  yer  humbugging  Masther 
Volney,"  said  Doyle  after  he  had  scratched  and  rubbed  his 
head  in  every  direction  for  a  satisfactory  reply.  "Share, 
it's  not  a  hair  o'  Misther  Gruntle  we'll  iver  see  in  these 
parts  agin.  'Pon  me  sowl,  it's  flew  away  wid  thedivil  he 
is  entirely,  an'  it's  O'lJara  here  knows  how  he  wor  goin'." 

"  Yis  ;  it's  the  rale  thruth — God's  own  word — Patrick 
is  tellin'  ye,"  spoke  up  Dennis  with  a  face  as  dismal  as 
his  voice.  "Old  Gruntle  towld  me  yesterday,  wid  his 
own  lips,  he  wor  goin'  away  this  mornin',  an'  lie  bid  me 
come  at  five  o'clock  to  see  him  goin'  an'  help  him  wid  the 
cart.  Shure,  he  towld  me  to  say  nothin'  to  no  one  about 
it.  Faix,  I  tried  to  kape  the  saycret,  but  it's  the  owld 
woman  tormented  the  life  out  o'  me  till  I  towld  her,  an' 
thin,  whin  she  promised  a  tight  tongue  on  it  all,  she  up  and 
tells  Mary,  an'  she,  shure,  wid  a  tongue  as  loose  as  her 
mother's,  tells  Pat  here  whin  he  wor  sparkin'  her  last 
night,  the  desateful  rogue,  wid  the  honey  on  his  lips  that 
drew  the  saycret  out  o'  her  like  the  cork  o'  a  bottle  o' 
good  spirits — " 

"  Hark  to  his  goostherumfoodle  !"  interrupted  Pat,  giv 
ing  him  a  loud,  resounding  slap  on  the  ribs  with  the  back 
of  his  hand.  "Arrah,  now,  can't  ye  be  tiisv  wi  I  ver 
tongue,  runnin'  on  like  the  clapper  o'  a  bell  that  niver 
sthops. — Shure,  it's  goin'  on  wid  the  story  I'd  be,"  address 
ing  himself  to  the  others,  "an'  not  be  takin'  up  yer 
blessed  time  wid  his  nonsense  'twixt  the  colleen  an'  me. 
Heaven  bliss  the  dew  on  her  purty  lips,  say  I!  Well, 
be  this  and  that,  it's  down  at  the  hut  bey  ant  I  wor  tin's 
mornin',  afore  daylight,  wid  me  lanthern,  wait  in'  fur 
O'llara  an'  his  cart.  Xiver  mind,"  with  a  sly  wink, 
"  how  I  knew  he  wor  comin'.  An'  whin  he  cum  an'  seen 
me  sthandin'  in  the  door,  shure,  it's  the  howl  o'  him  ye 
ought  to  have  heard,  an'  the  foine  elevation,  bedad,  he 
give  his  heels,  lavin'  his  cart  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 
'  O'Hara,' says  I,  callin'  to  him  wid  me  sides  sphlittin' 
wid  the  laughter  that  wor  chokiu'  me,  'is  it  a  ghost  ye 


4.V  EARLY  HOUR  AT  THE  FARM-HOUSE.       303 

take  me  fur?  Cum  back  out  o'  that,  yc  gommoch,'  says 
I.  '  It'  not  a  ghost  that's  livin'  in  me  flesh  an'  bones  vit/ 
says  I—" 

"  Come,  Pat  !"  interrupted  Volney  with  an  impatient 
nod  ;  "  make  your  story  shorter,  or  it  will  be  an  hour  be 
fore  you  come  to  any  point  in  it." 

"Indade,  Mast  her  Volney,  it's  a  longer  time  than  that 
same  that  people  wid  more  larnin'  on  their  stomachs  than 
I  takes  to  tell  a  sthory  widout  any  ])oint  at  all,  at  all. 
But  it's  not  tirin'  ye  wid  me  diseoorse  I'd  be,  like  the 
praist  in  the  church  beyant — whist!  it's  bowld  I  am  to 
poke  fun  at  him,  shure,  Heaven  bless  His  Rivirence ! — so 
I'll  be  tellin'  ye  the  rest  as  short  as  a  woman  sphakes  to 
a  man  a  year  after  their  weddin'.  It's  all  through  the 
mjser's  hut  we  wint,  O'Hara  an'  me,  from  the  cellar  to 
the  garret,  pokin'  our  noses  wid  the  vartue  of  curiosity  in 
ivery  crook  an'  corner  o'  the  same.  An'  shure  impty  o' 
life  as  the  grave  it  all  wor,  an'  sthill  as  the  heart  o'  a 
ghost.  Thin  it's  out  to  the  barn  we  wint,  an'  sarehed  it 
through,  but  it's  not  owld  Gruntle  we  found  at  all,  at  all, 
only  the  purty  baste  forninst  ye  there,  wid  her  one  horn 
as  if  her  masther  wor  begrudgin'  her  the  other.  '  Well/ 
says  I  to  O'Hara,  'it's  flew  away  wid  the  divil  the  miser 
has  wid  his  goold,  so  it's  his  lavin's  we'll  put  in  the  cart, 
an'  carry  thim  to  the  colleen  fur  the  partin'  gift  o'  the 
owld  sthrap  o'  her  father/  An'  so,  be  the  same  token, 
it's  here  we  be,  wid  all  the  furnichure  and  the  baste, 
l>arrin'  her  other  horn,  which  O'Hara  wor  lookin'  for  a 
long  time  in  her  sthall  a  while  ago.  Faix,  it's  certain  I 
am  he  wor  thinkin'  she  wor  puttin'  it  on  an'  otf  like  a 
colleen  the  shoe  on  her  purty  foot." 

"  Well,  now  that  you  have  finished  your  story,"  said 
Volney,  "  what  do  you  propose  to  do  with  these  traps  ?" 
pointing  to  the  wagon  with  a  derisive  smile. 

"\\irra  !  wirra !"  exclaimed  Pat,  throwing  up  his 
hands  in  utter  astonishment  and  turning  to  O'Hara. 
"Listen  to  the  pride  o'  hi  in  !  Traps,  is  it?  Shure,  it's 
a  cabinful  o'  illegant  things  they  are,  an'  many's  the 
colleen  that  wud  moisten  her  eyes  at  the  sight  o'  them." 

"We  will  not  further  discuss  their  value,''  the  young 
man  rejoined.  "  The  question  now  is,  What  shall  be 


304  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEX. 

done  with  them?  You  had  better  stow  them  in  the  barn 
for  the  present.  When  Miss  Grundie  is  informed  of 
what  yon  have  done,  she  will  decide  as  to  their  further 
disposal  ;"  and  so  saying,  he  turned  away  with  Axlel  and 
entered  the  house. 

"Traps,  is  it ?"  muttered  Pat  as  he  and  O'Hara  went 
with  the  load  toward  the  barn.  "  Shnre,  it's  moighty 
high  Masrher  Yolney  is  holdin'  his  head  this  morn  in'." 

"  But  who  be's  payin'  me  fur  haulin'  the  load  ?"  asked 
O'Hara  in  a  lugubrious  tone.  "Is  it  a  foine  job  wid 
no  money  in  it  I've  bin  doin' ?" 

"Och,  get  out  o'  that!"  growled  Doyle,  flinging  a 
withering  look  at  him.  "  Is  it  afraid  o'  doin'  a  good  turn 
fur  the  orphan  ye  are,  Misther  O'Hara,  and  thrustin'  to 
the  good  God  above  fur  yer  pay?" 

"  It's  the  owld  woman  that  will  be  axin'  me  fur  the 
price  o'  the  job,"  persisted  O'Hara  with  a  dubious  shake 
of  his  head. 

"  Is  it  the  owld  woman  ye  be  afeerd  o'  ?"  rejoined 
Doyle  in  a  mocking  voice.  "Thin  I'll  give  ye  a  rimedy 
that  will  quiet  the  covetous  sowl  o'  her." 

"  For  the  tindher  mercy  o'  Heaven,  make  haste  an'  tell 
me  what  it  is!  Troth,  I've  tried  ivery  orgument  wid 
her,  and  it's  proof  agin  all  she  is,  bad  luck  to  her!" 

"Take  a  stout  sthrap  to  her  back,  thin,"  said  Pat  with 
an  encouraging  glance.  "It  will  quiet  the  wind  o' her 
an'  do  the  muscles  o'  yer  arms  a  power  o'  good." 

"Blur  an'  agers,  ye  can  keep  yer  advice  fur  yer  own 
use,  Patrick  Doyle,  fur  it's  nayther  eves  nor  hair  I'd  have 
if  I  followed  it.'" 

"  It's  not  much  hair  she's  left  on  ye,  anyhow,  wid  the 
top  o'  yer  head  shinin'  loike  the  vane  on  the  church 
beyant,"  replied  Doyle  with  a  grin  as  they  reached  the 
barn  and  prepared  to  unload  the  wagon. 


A   MOTHER'S  SCHEME.  305 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A  MOTHER  'S  SCHEME. 

"\TTHETHER  it  were  the  natural  jealousy  of  a  mother 
VV  at  the  transference  of  her  child's  affections  to  a 
stranger,  or  her  love  for  that  child,  now  aroused  by  ;i 
realizing  sense  of  her  own  isolation  in  the  world,  or  a 
parental  desire  for  her  son's  fullest  and  easiest  success 
in  life,  certainly  it  was  one,  or  perhaps  all  three,  of  these 
considerations  that  influenced  Mrs.  Gngger  as  she  softly 
entered  Aziel's  room  and  stood  looking  silently  with  a  re 
strained  smile  of  recognition  at  Emilv,  who  as  silently 
gbinced  up  at  her  with  a  timid,  shrinking  face. 

"  I  am  pleased  to  see  that  you  have  so  soon  recovered 
from  your  accident,"  the  woman  said,  slowly  advancing 
with  folded  hands  toward  the  chair  in  which  Emily  was 
seated.  "  Do  not  rise,"  as  the  girl  made  a  weary  motion  to 
do  so.  "  I  observe  you  are  still  weak.  I  shall  stay  but 
a  moment." 

The  haughty  bearing  of  Mrs.  Gagger,  her  cold  face  and 
emotionless  voice,  sent  a  little  shudder  of  fear  through  the 
listener.  Emily's  countenance  quickly  lost  its  faint  smile 
of  greeting,  and  her  hand,  which  she  had  timidly  ex 
tended  toward  her  companion,  fell  in  her  lap  with  a 
half-frightened  motion,  while  her  eyes  sank  away  from 
that  chilling  gaze. 

"  I  imagine,  from  your  manner,"  resumed  Mrs.  Gagger, 
still  standing  statue-like,  and  her  tones  as  rigid  as  the 
position  she  had  assumed,  "  that  you  think  I  am  angry 
with  you.  But  I  am  not  angry  with  you;  I  am  only  dis 
pleased  with  what  you  have  done.  There  is  yet  time  for 
you  to  right  the  wrong  if  you  so  choose,  and  for  the  pur 
pose  of  getting  you  to  do  this  I  am  here.  Unless  your 
appearance  deceives  me,  I  am  sure  you  will  be  influenced 
and  guided  by  a  mother's  appeal." 

"Please  tell  me  what  wrong  I  have  done?"  Emily 
asked  eagerly,  putting  out  her  hands  with  a  pleading 
gesture  and  fixing  her  wide-open  blue  eyes  on  the  other's 
passionless  face  with  a  startled  expression. 

26  *  U 


306  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"I  am  willing  to  say  that  I  do  not  think  it  is  a  wrong 
of  which  you  are  as  yet  conscious,  for  all  of  us  do  things 
in  our  selfish  moments  the  evil  results  of  which  \ve  cannot 
foresee,  so  blinded  are  we  by  our  own  feelings,  our  own  in 
terests.  Without  our  own  consciousness,  these  intrude  and 
affect  us.  But  when  some  kind  friend  more  mature  in  the 
world's  experience  points  out  our  errors  to  us,  is  it  not 
our  duty  to  correct  them  without  that  delay  which  might 
strengthen  our  evil  judgment,  and  bring  only  ruin  and 
remorse  where  we  had  sought  success  and  happiness?" 

The  girl  quickly  though  quietly  nodded  assent,  with  a 
countenance  more  bewildered  now,  for  she  was  trying 
earnestly  though  vainly  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
the  woman's  words.  What  had  she  done  to  bring  upon 
her  these  reproofs?  This  question  ran  riot  through 
Emily's  mind.  And  yet,  so  pure  had  her  life  been, 
not  even  an  imaginary  wrong  suggested  itself  in  answer. 
The  other  went  on  : 

"  I  shall  now  speak  more  frankly.  There  is  nothing  to 
conceal  in  this  matter,  for  it  is  an  issue  of  happiness  or 
misery  to  both  you  and  Yolncy.  Concealment  would 
only  aggravate  the  danger  I  wish  to  avert.  You  pro 
fess  to  love  my  son,  and  have  promised  to  marry  him. 
Am  I  correct?'' 

"Yes,"  at  length  faltered  the  girl,  drooping  her  scarlet 
face  upon  her  bosom  to  hide  her  blushes,  and  the  fright 
ened  tears  as  well  which  had  crept  suddenly  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Then,  loving  him,  it  will  be  the  easier  for  you  to  serve 
him.  AVhat  we  do  for  those  we  love  is  the  best  test  of 
our  affection — the  only  proof,  indeed,  of  its  existence — 
and  the  surest  measure  of  its  strength.  You  love  him 
well  enough,  devotedly  enough,  to  seek  his  happiness  in 
stead  of  your  own  ?  You  are  willing  to  be  miserable,  if 
need  be,  in  order  that  lie  may  win  success  in  the  world 
and  be  always  happy  ?  Answer  me  :  could  you  do  this — 
will  you  do  it — for  him?" 

"Oh,  I  Avould  do  anything  for  his  sake!"  cried  Emily, 
her  face  aglow  with  a  loving  consecration,  little  dreaming 
what  the  woman  meant.  "  Tell  me  how  I  can  help  him, 
what  I  can  do  to  make  him  happy — oh,  so  very  happy.  I 


A  MOTHER'S  SCHEME.  307 

will  never,  never  forget  you  if  you  will  oi)Iy  tell  me 
this." 

She  stretched  out  her  hands  in  her  ardent  entreaty,  her 
heart,  overflowing  with  love's  tenderest  yearning,  flooding 
her  eves  with  happy  tears. 

"  Sacrifice  is  the  law  of  happiness,"  replied  Mrs.  Gag- 
ger,  her  voice  and  countenance  strangely  calm  in  com 
parison  with  the  bated  breath  and  solicitous  face  of  the 
girl,  who  eagerly  caught  at  every  word.  "  Forgetful  ness 
of  ourelves  is  oftenest  the  best  remembrance  we  can  be 
stow  on  those  we  love.  True  love  cares  not  so  ranch  for 
the  present  as  for  the  future  happiness  of  the  object  of  its 
affections.  You  say  you  love  my  son.  I  do  not  doubt  you 
think  you  have  given  him  your  whole  heart.  I  see  you 
would  quickly  tell  me  you  are  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice, 
however  great,  for  his  welfare.  But  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
do  this  ;  I  only  ask  that  you  will  take  back  your  promise 
to  marry  him — that  you  will  let  him  go  forth  into  the 
world  to  make  his  fame  and  fortune  without  the  hin 
drance  you  would  be  to  him  as  his  wife.  Do  you  love 
him  enough  for  that?  or  would  you,  by  marrying  him, 
make  his  struggles  for  a  livelihood  all  the  harder,  and  by 
the  burdens  and  cares  of  married  life  bring  failure  upon 
him  ?  Failure  to  him  would  be  poverty  and  misery  and 
remorse,  and  what  other  evils  I  know  not,  but  can  only 
fear  them  with  all  a  mother's  anxious  love." 

Emily  was  crying  bitterly  and  wringing  her  little  hands, 
her  white,  scared  face  mutely  begging  the  other  to  say 
no  more.  At  last,  with  an  energy  born  of  the  horror  of 
these  words,  she  cried, 

"Do  not  say  that  I  would  be  so  cruel  to  hi  mi  I  love 
him  with  all  my  heart.  Sooner  than  make  him  unhappy 
for  a  moment  I  would  be  willing  to  never  see  him  again. 
But  I  thought  he  would  be  so  happy  with  me,"  she  went 
on  with  a  touch  of  sadness  in  her  despairing  tones.  '*  He 
told  me  so.5' 

"Ah  !  he  is  so  young  !"  said  Mrs.  Gagger  softly,  coming 
closer  and  laying  her  hand  upon  the  girl's  head,  bowed  in 
an  agonv  of  tears.  "  Volney  knows  nothing  of  life — its 
trials  and  hardships.  Little  does  he  imagine  to  what  mis 
ery  he  would  doom  you  both,  marrying,  as  you  two  chil- 


308  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

dren  would,  without  friends  or  money.  It  is  for  you  to 
warn  him  of  the  evil  that  lie  would  so  innocently  bring 
upon  himself.  It  is  your  duty,  made  the  easier  by  your 
love,  to  show  him  what  a  burden  you  would  be  to  him 
when  the  world  shall  use  him  hardly,  and  he  shall  slave 
and  toil  in  vain  to  escape  the  poverty  and  failure  that  will 
follow  him  all  the  more  closely  because  of  your  being  his 
wife." 

Emily  made  no  reply  beyond  her  broken  sobs  and  a 
low, moan  that  now  and  then  escaped  her  lips.  She  cla-p- 
ed  her  face  in  her  cold  hands,  and  swayed  to  and  fro  in 
her  anguish  as  if  she  were  slowly  but  steadily  tearing 
from  her  heart  every  hope  that  love  had  nurtured  there 
so  happily. 

"  Listen  !"  exclaimed  the  woman  under  her  breath  with 
a  little  start.  "That  is  his  voice.  Yes,"  after  a  pause  ; 
"lie  has  returned.  I  will  leave  you  to  think  of  what  I 
have  said,"  stepping  quickly  toward  the  door.  "  Ilemem- 
ber,  you  can  make  him  happy  or  miserable — happy  if 
you  let  him  go  free;  miserable  if  vou  bind  him  to 
you." 

Mrs.  Gagger  glided  noiselessly  from  the  room  and  en- 
tered  her  own  apartment  as  the  door  at  the  bottom  of 
the  staircase  was  opened  and  a  light  foot  sprang  up  the 
steps. 

A  moment  later  Volney  had  passed  his  mother's  closed 
room,  and  with  a  light,  impulsive  rap  on  Emily's  door  had 
opened  it  and  stood  before  her.  So  absorbed  was  she  in  her 
grief  that  she  had  heard  no  sound  of  his  coming,  and  now 
that  she  thought  she  was  alone  she  was  giving  expression 
to  her  overburdened  heart  in  half-articulate  exclamations 
of  sorrow  and  murmured  protestations  of  the  sacrifice  her 
love  would  readily  make  for  him  she  so  dearly  loved. 
Confused  for  the  instant  at  the  sight  of  Emilv  absorbed 
in  such  utter  woe — for  he  could  not  imagine  any  satis- 
factorv  cause  for  it  in  the  narration  which  A/:el  had  just 
given  him — he  stood  regarding  her  with  that  respectful 
silence  which  the  exhibition  of  grief  alwavs  induces. 
Then,  gently  approaching  her,  he  tcnde-ly  called  her  by 
name,  and  stood  by  her  side  with  his  eyes,  full  of  love 
and  sympathy,  looking  down  upon  her.  She  heard  his 


A   MOTHER'S  SCHEME.  309 

voice,  but  without  that  alertness  of  motion  with  which  it 
had  been  her  wont  to  respond  to  him  down  by  the  cluster 
ing  \villo\vs  and  along  the  brook,  where  happy  hours  had 
fled  too  fast  for  them.  Slowly  and  wearily  she  raised  her 
head.  Instead  of  the  bright  smile  of  welcome  he  had  ex 
pected,  he  saw  that  shrinking,  shy,  saddened  look — the 
same  she  had  given  him  that  other  morning  when  he  had 
said  good-bye  to  her  in  the  willow  copse.  Trembling  with 
the  apprehension  that  she  had  indeed  ceased  to  love  him, 
and  that  the  forgiveness  he  had  come  to  ask  would  not 
bring  back  her  heart  to  him,  he  caught  her  hand  and  pas 
sionately  exclaimed, 

"  Emily,  speak  to  me !  Do  not  look  at  me  with  that 
strange,  terror-stricken  gaze.  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to 
forgive  me — to  hear  you  say  that  you  still  love  me.  See!" 
he  went  on  as  a  smile  of  tender  sadness  crept  over  her  face 
and  he  felt  her  hand,  in  which  he  had  already  placed  the 
jewel,  fluttering  in  his  grasp;  "  here  is  the  locket.  I  give 
it  back  to  you  with  a  love  stronger  and  deeper  and  purer 
than  when  I  first  placed  it  in  your  hands.  No,  no !  Do 
not  turn  away.  Aziel  has  told  me  all.  I  know  you  love 
me,  and  Heaven  is  my  witness  that  I  love  you  more  sin 
cerely  than  my  poor  lips  can  express.  Will  you  not  be 
lieve  me?  What  can  I  do  to  prove  to  you  the  depth  of 
my  repentance  and  the  strength  of  my  love?" 

He  stopped,  his  voice  dying  away  in  tremulous  tones; 
for  her  tears  had  broken  out  afresh  while  he  had  been 
speaking,  and  her  face  had  turned  partly  away  from  him 
with  a  despairing  look,  and  her  head  sunk  upon  her 
bosom. 

"  Emily,"  he  cried  in  broken  tones,  falling  upon  his 
knees  and  drawing  her  nearer  to  him  with  his  close-en 
circling  arm,  "do  not  say  you  will  not  forgive  me,  unde 
serving  though  I  be.  Let  your  heart  speak  truly,  unworthy 
as  I  am  to  hear  its  blessed  words.  You  do  love  me  still? 
You  remember  all  your  promises  and  vows  to  me?  You 
cannot,  you  will  not,  cease  to  love  me?" 

For  answer  she  suddenly  raised  her  face  to  his — a  face 
in  which  he  saw,  despite  its  tears  and  shadows,  her  old 
look  of  childlike  simplicity  and  truth.  Then,  as  her  eyes 
met  his  ardent  gaze,  which  as  quickly  flashed  with  hope, 


310  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

she  sank  into  his  arms  with  a  murmured  exclamation  of 
jov,  hurving  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"You  love  me,  then,  as  much  as  ever?"  he  tenderly  whis 
pered,  pressing  a  fervent  kiss  upon  the  tear-stained  cheek 
lying  so  close  to  his  lips. 

"Dear  Volney!"  she  softly  breathed,  as  her  little  arm 
crept  around  his  neck  with  a  clinging  pressure. 

He  could  not  speak;  his  heart  was  too  full..  Even 
thought  could  not  formulate  the  happiness  he  felt,  much 
less  feeble  words  give  expression  to  it.  Life's  most  joy 
ful  moment  was  it  for  him,  as  it  ever  has  been  since  love's 
first  whisper  was  heard  in  Paradise.  He  loved  and  was 
beloved.  Closer  to  his  breast  he  drew  the  nestling  form 
that  so  passively  rested  in  his  arms.  With  many  a  thrill 
he  felt  her  soft  breath  upon  his  cheek.  Glancing  down 
with  rapturous  lace,  he  drew  in  from  her  eyes,  half  veiled 
in  happy  tears,  the  look  of  trusting  love  she  gave  him  as 
her  lips  again  murmured  his  name.  What  joyous  visions 
of  their  future  were  mirrored  in  her  tender,  trusting  eyes  ! 

"  This  is  joy,"  he  said  with  a  fervent  kiss,  "  the  world 
cannot  give  and  cannot  take  away.  And  always  thus  shall 
we  love  each  other." 

In  response  she  gently  touched  his  cheek  with  her  half- 
parted  lips,  and  then,  with  a  little  bashful  start,  hid 
her  blushing,  happy  face  on  his  breast,  where  she  felt  his 
strong  heart  beating  for  her — a  heart  so  full  of  joy,  so  full 
of  love,  so  full  of  hope,  she  knew  it  was;  and  his  own 
precious  letter,  hidden  in  her  bosom,  seemed  to  palpitate 
in  soi't  unison  with  the  beatings  of  their  happy  hearts. 

"  It  is  very  selfish  in  me,"  said  Volney  at  last,  looking 
down  into  her  confiding  face,  turned  up  to  his  with  the 
frank  trustfulness  of  a  child,  "  to  be  so  absorbed  in  my 
own  happiness  at  meeting  you  again,  so  loving  and  true  to 
me  as  to  forget  even  for  a  moment  your  troubles.  But 
your  misfortunes  are,  and  always  shall  be,  mine.  You 
know  how  sorry  I  am  at  what  has  happened  ;  yet  if  it 
gives  me  the  opportunity  to  show  you  how  devotedly  I 
love  you,  I  am  sure  we  will  both  be  happier  in  the  end, 
whatever  may  be  the  result  of  last  night's  mystery." 

"  Do  you  think  father  has  gone  away  to  stay  a  long 
time?"  she  asked,  her  arms  pressing  closer  upon  his  breast 


A   MOTHER'S  SCHEME.  311 

with  a  little  convulsive  motion,  as  if  this  question  had 
suddenly  suggested  to  her  that  perhaps  in  some  mysterious 
way  she  might  lose  Volncy  also,  who  seemed,  she  could 
not  tell  how  or  when,  to  have  divided  her  heart  with  her 
absent  parent. 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  it  will  be  long  before  we  see  him 
again,"  he  replied  after  a  pause,  during  which  his  hand 
gently  stroked  the  head  so  passively  pillowed  upon  his 
shoulder.  >(  We  must  be  patient.  Your  father,  you  know, 
is  such  a  very  strange  man  ;  I  never  could  understand  his 
character  or  imagine  any  good  reason  why  he  has  kept  you  so 
many  years  secluded  from  the  world.  His  leaving  you  so 
mysteriously  now  is  as  unaccountable  to  me  as  the  whole 
course  of  his  life  since  he  has  been  in  Slowville.  When 
feuch  a  man  disappears  in  the  way  he  has  done,  it  is  not 
so  easy  to  trace  him.  Perhaps  before  the  day  is  past," 
he  went  on  more  confidently,  "  I  shall  come  across  some 
clew  to  his  whereabouts.  If  I  do,  you  and  I  will  follow 
it  up  without  delay  and  find  him.  Ah,  Emily!  with  you 
by  my  side,  I  could  willingly  wander  the  world  over  in 
search  of  anything,  if  the  finding  of  it  should  bring  only 
one  smile  of  happiness  to  your  loving  eyes." 

His  face  illumined  by  the  proud  consciousness  of  the 
eternal  endurance  of  his  affection,  he  kissed  her  lips,  which 
turned  not  away  as  she  murmured, 

"  I  know  you  love  me  very,  very  much.  Oh,  if  father 
were  only  here,  I  should  be  so  happy  !" 

"  Can  you  not  be  happy  with  me  even  if  your  father  is 
not  by  your  side'?"  he  said  with  a  faint  touch  of  reproach 
in  his  voice.  "  You  cannot  have  him  always  with  you. 
The  time  must  come  when  he  will  go  a  longer  journey 
than  he  may  be  traveling  now — when  you  will  be  left 
always  with  me — when,  if  you  do  not  love  me  with  all 
your  heart,  as  even  now  I  love  you,  I  shall  be  very  mis 
erable  and  you  will  be  as  unhappy  as  myself.  My  little 
wife  that  is  to  be  must  love  me  so  much  that  I  shall 
always  be  first  and  foremost  in  her  heart,  leaving  only  a 
little  corner  there  for  her  father.  There,  there!  do  not  mis 
understand  me,"  he  continued,  speaking  quickly  and  patting 
her  cheek,  down  which  tears  were  already  fast  falling,  as 
her  face  had  slowly  drooped  away  from  his  fervent  gaze. 


312  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"  I  was  not  finding  fault  with  you ;  I  am  sure  you  love 
me  far  more  than  I  deserve.  I  was  only  picturing  to  you 
our  married  life,  when  we  will  be  so  engrossed  in  our  love 
for  each  other  that  affection  for  our  parents  will  be  only 
a  secondary  pleasure  to  us.  And,  darling  little  wife," 
pressing  her  to  his  breast,  "much  as  1  shall  love  you  then, 
I  know  your  love  for  me  will  be  purer  and  holier  than 
mine,  strive  though  I  may  to  equal  you  with  the  sincerest 
worship  of  my  heart.  You  and  I  married!"  he  murmured 
— "husband  and  wife,  never  to  part  again,  always  to  be 
together!  The  mere  thought  so  fills  my  heart  with  joy 
that  I  cannot  speak.  What  a  transport  of  happiness  the 
reality  will  be!" 

He  suddenly  ceased  speaking,  for  she  was  trembling 
and  in  tears.  With  a  look  of  alarm  he  sought  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her  face,  as  if  there  he  could  read  the  cause  of 
her  agitation.  She  was  sobbing  and  weeping  violently  as 
his  hand  gently  turned  her  unresisting  head,  and  her  tear- 
stained  face  was  for  an  instant  exposed  to  his  startled  and 
questioning  gaze.  Tenderly  he  laid  her  head  again  upon 
his  breast,  touching  her  forehead  with  a  lingering  pressure 
of  his  lips.  Poor  child!  he  thought;  he  had  been  too 
abrupt.  His  excited  description  of  their  married  life  had 
aroused  some  strange  fears  in  her  innocent  soul,  made 
greater,  perhaps,  by  the  nervous  condition  of  her  mind. 
Yes,  lie  ought  to  have  approached  the  subject  gradually, 
if  at  all  at  this  time.  But  he  would  speak  gently  to  her 
and  soothe  her. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said  in  a  compassionate  whisper, 
"  that  my  eagerness  in  regard  to  our  marriage  has  brought 
tears  to  my  little  wife's  eyes.  You  will  forgive  me  if  my 
love  outran  my  discretion.  But  it  was  natural  for  me  to 
speak  of  our  future  happiness,  for  so  bound  up  are  you 
in  my  every  thought  that  it  seems  as  if  you  were  already 
my  wife  without  form  or  ceremony." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  that — not  that !"  she  wailed,  her  arms 
groping  their  way  again  around  his  neck.  "  I  do  love 
yon — I  do  want  to  be  your  wife  ;  but  I  cannot.  No,  no, 
I  cannot!  I  love  you  too  much  to  make  you  unhappy. 
But  oh,  I  will  love  you  ever  so  much  more  than  I  do 
now,"  she  went  on,  clinsrinsi  closer  to  him  as  her  tears 


A  MOTHER'S  SCHEME.  313 

came  the  faster.  "  No  one  shall  ever  love  you  so  much  as 
I  will.  I  will  think  of  you  all  day  and  pray  for  you  all 
night—" 

He  quickly  interrupted  her,  putting  her  out  at  arm's 
length  with  a  startled  motion.  He  gazed  into  her  face 
with  such  a  white,  wild  look  that  for  the  moment  it  check 
ed  her  tears  and  held  in  suspense  the  distressed  expression 
of  her  countenance. 

"  What  is  this  you  are  saying?"  he  asked  with  such  a 
tremor  in  his  husky  voice  that  she  shrank  just  a  trifle 
away  from  him.  "You  love  me,  and  yet  you  cannot  be 
my  wife  ?  Can  it  be  possible,"  he  went  on,  a  reproachful 
look  gathering  in  his  eyes,  so  intently  fixed  upon  her, 
"that  you  are  trifling  with  me  again,  as  I  thought  you 
did'  that  morning  I  bid  you  good-bye.  Oh,  Emily,  it 
cannot  be  that  you  are  so  cruel  !  No,  no  !  You  do  not 
speak  the  words  of  your  own  heart,"  his  tones  softening 
as  he  saw  her  eager  look  of  expostulation,  followed  so 
quickly  by  a  yearning  glance  as  steady  as  it  was  loving. 
"  I  am  sure  you  love  me.  Every  dear  feature  of  your 
face  tells  me  so.  You  will  be  my  wife — mine  for  ever  ! 
But  why,"  drawing  her  again  to  him  and  gazing  reproach 
fully  into  her  eyes,  that  were  glistening  with  happy  tears 
— "  why  have  you  talked  so  strangely  of  never  becoming 
my  wife  ?  AYhat  reason  is  there  that  you  should  not 
marry  me  ?  Come  !  tell  me  who  put  these  thoughts  into 
your  guileless  mind?  Are  they  echoes  of  your  father's 
words  still  lingering  there?" 

"  No,  no  !"  she  murmured,  hesitatingly,  catching  her 
words  now  and  then  with  a  sob  ;  "  he  never  told  me  not 
to  marrv  you  for  fear  I  should  prevent  you  beco  riling  a 
groat  and  rich  man.  He  only  wanted  me  to  wait,"  she 
wont  on,  stammering  and  sobbing  more  freely,  "  until  I 
was  sure  I — I  loved  you  !" 

"Are  you  sure  of  it  now  ?"  he  asked,  a  smile  of  assur 
ance  flitting  across  his  grave  face. 

"Yes;  very,  very  sure,"  she  answered  with  a  gentle 
thrill  of  firmness  in  her  voice  as  she  hid  her  blushing 
cheek  upon  his  shoulder  with  a  shy  but  tender  glance. 

"Then,  loving  me  so,"  he  said,  speaking  with  sudden 
deliberation  in  his  kindly  tone,  "you  will  tell  me  who  it 


314  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

is  that  has  been  advising  you  not  to  mnrrv  me  for  mv 
o\vn  sake.  Was  it  my  mother?"  putting  the  question 
with  that  quickness  with  which  it  had  just  flashed  upon 
his  mind. 

Emily  did  not  answer  him,  but  with  a  little  start  turned 
her  face  slowly  away  from  his  gaze.  He  felt  her  form 
nestle  more,  closely  upon  his  breast  as  a  slight  tremor  ran 
over  her.  In  another  instant  he  saw  that  she  was  weeping 
again. 

"  There  is  no  longer  need  for  your  tears,"  he  said,  a 
touch  of  assumed  gavetv  in  his  voice,  "  if  my  mother's 
advice  is  the  cause  of  them.  So  she  is  the  one,"  he  con 
tinued  with  sudden  warmth,  "  that  would  come  between 
us,  now  that  your  father  is  gone!  She  would  show  her 
love  for  her  only  son  by  trying  to  rob  him  of  his  wife! 
What  an  exhibition  of  a  mother's  affection  !  I  thought 
your  father  was  cruel  to  us,  Emily,  but  what  shall  I  say 
of  my  mother?"  he  exclaimed  with  bitterness,  while 
indignation  flamed  in  his  eves. 

"You  must  not  be  angry  with  her,"  said  the  girl,  look 
ing  up  at  him  pleadingly.  "She  loves  you  very  much — • 
I  am  sure  she  does:  she  told  me  so;  and  it  was  only 
because  she  loves  you  that  she  asked  me  not  to  marry 
you." 

"She  asked  you  not  to  marry  me!"  he  muttered,  a 
confused  expression  of  pain  and  shame  on  his  face. 
"What  reasons  did  she  give  you?  Tell  me  everything 
she  said.  I  can  bear  to  hear  it  all,  now  that  I  know  the 
effect  of  her  cruel  advice  upon  you  has  so  soon  passed 
away." 

"  Ought  I  to  tell  you  all  she  said  to  me?"  asked  Emily, 
just  a  little  uncertainty  in  the  frank  questioning  of  her 
face.  "And  if  I  do,"  coaxingly  patting  his  cheek,  "you 
will  promise  me  not  to  be  angry  with  her?  She  is  your 
mother.  I  know  she  loves  you.  How  could  she  help 
it?" 

He  could  hardly  repress  a  smile  at  the  utter  simplicity 
of  her  words  and  manner.  But  the  smile  soon  deepened 
into  a  look  of  admiration  and  of  love  as  he  said  with  a 
light  laugh, 

"  What  an  innocent,  guileless  soul  you  have,  to  be  sure ! 


A   MOTHER'S  SCHEME.  315 

So  my  mother  loves  me!  Let  us  hope  she  does.  For 
your  sake  I  will  try  not  to  bo  angry  with  her  tor  what 
she  has  clone,  though  it  deeply  wounds  me.  But  you 
have  not  told  me  what  she  said  to  you.  So  go  on,  and 
omit  nothing.  Remember,  the  greatest  love  begets  the 
fullest  confidence.  I  always  want  your  heart  to  be  freely 
opened  to  me,  as  mine  shall  eVer  be  to  you." 

She  went  on  now,  and  told  him  the  conversation  in  all 
its  details.  She  could  not  remember  so  well  what  reply 
she  had  given  to  his  mother,  but  what  his  mother  had 
said  to  her — this  she  repeated  almost  word  for  word,  as 
her  love  had  treasured  it  up  because  it  so  deeply  affected 
the  happrness  of  him  for  whom  she  was  more  than  willing 
to  sacrifice  all  joy  of  her  own.  When  she  had  finished 
the  fecital,  he  remained  for  a  moment  in  silence,  trying  to 
repress  all  exhibitions  of  the  anger  he  felt,  although, 
despite  his  efforts,  his  eyes  shone  wrathfully,  his  brows 
lowered  and  there  were  set  lines  about  his  rigid  lips. 

"You  promised  me  not  to  be  angry,"  she  whispered, 
soothingly  putting  up  her  shapely  hand  and  smoothing 
out  the  frown  still  heavy  upon  his  brow.  "You  must 
not  look  so  worried  and  sad.  I  will  love  you  just  as 
much  as  you  want  me  to." 

"  You  loving,  unsuspicious  child  !"  he  said  at  length  as 
he  folded  her  to  his  breast.  "How  can  I  ever  prove 
worthy  of  your  pure  devotion.  What  joy  it  will  be  for 
me  to  make  your  happiness  the  one  great  aim  of  my  life  ! 
Ah  !  what  would  fortune  or  fame  be  to  me  without  you  ? 
— dearer  than  all  the  fortunes  of  the  world,  sweeter  far  than 
fame's  most  noble  gifts.  No,  darling  ;  all  that  the  world 
could  give  me  would  be  but  the  merest  dross  and  I  the 
poorest  beggar  on  earth  were  you  not  my  wife.  But," 
checking  himself  and  his  old  grave  look  returning,  "  my 
love  for  you  must  now  show  itself  in  action  rather  than 
in  words.  This,  darling,  is  no  place  for  you  to  stay  any 
longer  than  is  necessary.  I  know  my  mother's  unrelent 
ing  disposition.  As  long  as  you  are  under  this  roof  she 
will  give  you  neither  peace  nor  rest,  especially  when  she 
finds  that  her  talk  with  you  has  been  of  no  avail  to  sepa 
rate  us." 

"But  where  can  I  go?"  was  the  wondering  question. 


316  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

Then,  with  an  earnest  look  out  of  her  clear  blue  eyes,  she 
added,  as  she  saw  how  he  hesitated  to  reply,  "I  will  go 
anywhere  with  you." 

"Let  its  see  what  the  day  will  bring  forth,"  he  replied. 
"If  I  find  a  trace  of  your  father,  you  shall  go  with  me 
in  .-•(•arch  of  him.  While  I  am  gone  this  morning  vou 
had  better  stay  here  in  this  room  and  rest,  and  recover  as 
much  as  you  can  from  that  ugly  wound,  which  I  see  Aziel 
has  so  carefully  dressed.  Ah  !  A/del  is  the  woman  who 
should  have  been  my  mother,"  he  sighed.  "She  fairly 
wor.-hips  me,  and  she  will  have  as  much  affection  for  you 
as  she  has  for  me,  now  that  she  knows  how  I  love  you. 
I  will  leave  you  in  her  charge.  You  need  not  fear  mv 
mother.  I  will  see  to  it  that  she  does  not  again  speak  to 
you  on  this  subject." 

Giving  her  a  parting  embrace,  he  went  slowly  toward 
the  door,  turning  at  each  step  with  a  loving  glance  in  her 
direction. 

"Shall  I  keep  the  locket?"  she  called  softly  after  him, 
with  a  happy  smile  holding  out  the  jewel,  which  all  this 
while  had  been  nestling  in  her  bosom  beside  the  letter. 

"  Keep  it,  and  with  it  the  only  and  dearest  love  of  my 
heart,"  he  exclaimed  passionately,  throwing  back  a  kiss  as 
he  disappeared  through  the  door. 

As  he  passed  along  the  hall  he  stopped  at  his  mother's 
door  and  listened.  He  heard  her  walking  with  slow  and 
measured  steps  backward  and  forward  across  her  apart 
ment. 

Opening  the  door  with  a  slight  rap,  he  entered  her 
room,  and  stood  silently  regarding  her  ;  for  as  soon  as 
her  eyes  had  fallen  upon  him  she  stopped  where  she  was 
and  gazed  coldly  at  him,  with  no  other  reception  than  a 
slight  haughty  inclination  of  her  head. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  advancing  slowly  and  hesitatingly 
extending  his  hand,  "is  this  all  the  welcome  you  have  for 
me,  when  I  have  come  back  to  tell  you  of  my  success.'" 

"What  other  welcome  do  you  deserve?"  she  replied, 
not  touching  the  proffered  palm  and  proudly  drawing  her 
self  away  with  folded  hands.  "When  a  son  returns  to 
his  mother's  house,  and  first  selfishly  seeks  an  unknown 
girl  and  lavishes  upon  her  his  fresh  and  loving  greetings, 


A   MOTHER'S  SCHEME.  317 

what  reception  other  than  this  should  his  mother  give  to 
his  tardy  appearance?  Strange  that  you  came  here  at  all! 
1  wonder  that  you  had  not  wholly  forgotten  me  in  your 
devotion  to  that  beggar's  brat,"  she  added  with  mingled 
sarcasm  and  resentment  in  her  steady  tones. 

"You  must  not  taunt  me,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tremulous 
voice  and  with  a  warning  gesture  of  his  uplifted  hand. 
"I  cannot,  I  will  not,  bear  it.  You  have  done  enough 
this  morning  to  show  how  little  you  love  me.  You  tried 
to  separate  my  wife  from  me.  You  must  not  now  add 
insult  to  injury." 

"Injury I"  The  word  came  with  a  prolonged  sneer. 
"You  don't  know  the  meaning  of  the  word  if  you  call 
my  advice  to  that  foolish,  ignorant  girl  an  injury  to  you. 
So  you  already  call  her  your  wife!  "What  an  excellent 
helpmeet  for  you 'she  will  be!  She  has  such  ripe  judg 
ment  and  good  common  sense.  She  has  shown  both  of 
these  to  a  remarkable  degree  in  so  soon  betraying  my  con 
fidence  and  setting  you  against  your  own  mother.  A  model 
wife,  indeed,  if  deceit  be  a  woman's  charm  !" 

The  hot,  angry  blood  surged  through  his  cheeks  and 
flushed  deep-red  on  his  temples.  His  whole  form  vibrated 
with  an  intensity  of  passion  that  showed  itself  in  the  swift, 
vindictive  look  of  his  face,  the  quick  swaying  of  his  body 
and  the  convulsive  clutching  of  his  hands.  But  he  sud 
denly  controlled  himself  with  a  violent  effort  of  his  will, 
and  for  an  instant  stood  rigid  as  a  statue.  Then,  turning 
slowly  away,  he  walked  with  a  staggering  motion  over  to 
the  window.  Here,  with  his  hands  firmly  clasping  the 
ledge,  he  looked  out  upon  the  landscape  and  the  sky;  and 
breathing  heavily  tried  to  forget  for  the  moment  where  he 
was  and  what  had  been  said  to  him.  A  white  look  of 
terror  came  over  his  face  while  he  gazed,  as  if  he  \\vre 
now  just  conscious  that  in  his  blinding  passion  he  had 
barely  escaped  some  awful  peril — some  dreadful  undefined 
thing  he  might  have  done  in  word  or  deed.  He  remem 
bered,  too,  with  a  shudder,  that  several  times  in  his  life  he 
had  experienced  these  same  wicked  feelings  toward  his 
mother,  and  that  very  often  his  father  had  even  more 
quickly  aroused  them  in  his  boyish  breast, 

"  You  ought  to  have  struck  me,"  resumed  his  mother, 

27* 


318  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

calmly.  "You  would  have  been  so  like  your  father  then, 
and  your  blo\v  cou-d  not  have  hurt  my  body  more  than 
vour  words  have  already  bruised  my  heart.  Words,  Yol- 
ney,  are  keener  than  blows.  Xeglect  is  often  harder  to 
bear  than  death  itself." 

"  You  are  my  mother,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  his  eyes  still 
fixed  without.  "I  forgive  you.  But  I  cannot  stay  here 
longer,"  groping  his  way  toward  the  door  and  casting  back 
at  her  a  look  of  fear.  "An  awful  feeling  of  repulsion  has 
come  over  me.  It  tells  me  that  your  heart  and  mine  are 
still  strangers  to  each  other,  as  they  have  always  been. 
Several  times  before  in  inv  life  have  I  felt  this  dreadful 
sensation  of  utter  hatred  toward  you  when  you  and  I  have 
been  angry  with  each  other.  What  this  feeling  means  or 
whence  it  comes,  I  do  not  know.  God  grant  that  1  was 
not  born  with  so  terrible  a  legacv  !' 

When  he  had  gone  and  his  unsteady  steps  had  descended 
the  stairs,  his  mother  said,  half  aloud,  to  herself, 

"  Verv  like  h:s  lather  he  looked — so  defiant  and  re 
vengeful  !  It  only  needed  a  blow  to  complete  the  resem 
blance.  How  strange  it  is  that,  although  lie  is  my  son,  I 
have  never  been  able  to  love  him  as  a  mother  should  ! 
Heaven  knows  I  have  tried  my  best  to  do  so;  but  all  my 
efforts  have  been  in  vain.  Ah!  well  do  I  remember  that 
night  when  they  laid  him,  a  tinv  babe,  u;>o;i  my  arm,  how 
I  turned  from  him  and  bade  the  nurse  carry  him  out  of 
my  sight.  They  told  me  of  it  afterward,  and  said  it  was 
delirium.  Strange  delirium  it  was,  to  last  all  these  years 
— a  delirium  that  has  always  kept  mother  and  child  so  far 
apart !" 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

DIBBS  ARRIVES  AT  CONCLUSIOXX. 

BILL  DIBBS  had  had  very  bad  dreams  all  night  long. 
He  had  dreamed  of  murders,  suicides  and   robberies, 
as  if  all  the  crimes  he  had  read  of  in  the  sporting  papers 
were  passing  before  him  in  one  continuous  pantomimic 


DIBBS  ARRIVES  AT  CONCLUSIONS.  319 

vision.  Now,  as  he  finally  awoke  and  found  himself  sit 
ting  bolt  upright  in  bed,  his  own  hand  clutched  upon  his 
throat,  after  he  hail  dreamed  that  the  grasp  of  a  masked 
villain  was  choking  his  last  breath,  he  gave  a  great  sigh 
of  relief  and  leaped  to  the  floor.  Gathering  up  his  scat 
tered  apparel,  he  dressed  himself  in  silence  with  more  than 
his  ordinary  haste,  and  with  a  countenance  of  unusual 
gravity. 

"  William  my  boy/'  he  said  at  last,  in  a  tragic  voice 
and  with  an  ominous  shake  of  his  head,  as  he  took  a  part 
ing  survey  of  his  red-and-black  eye  in  the  cracked  glass, 
"  k  no  west  thou  not  that  the  turgid  dreams  which  have 
this  night  disturbed  the  placid  surface  of  thy  imagination 
are  but  the  forms  and  shadows  of  events  to  come  ?  Ay, 
presentiments,  suggestions,  prophecies  of  impending  evil, 
engraven  on  thy  leaden  brain  by  the  heavy  touch  of  evil 
spirits  that  hovered  over  thy  unconscious  cerebellum  in 
the  darkness.  'Tis  even  so,  my  lord  ;  and  let  us  hence,  to 
await  the  signal  of  alarm  that  even  now  trembles  on  the 
morning  air." 

He  rolled  his  eyes  with  a  theatrical  stare  in  the  direction 
of  the  window,  and  then  descended  with  light,  long  strides 
to  the  bar-room.  Here,  suddenly  changing  his  manner,  he 
whistled  a  merry  good-morning  to  Spike,  threw  back  the 
shutters  and  opened  the  door,  from  which  he  looked  with 
a  glance  of  disdain  on  the  still  sleeping  town. 

"Sleep  on,  ye  grovelings!"  he  muttered  with  a  scornful 
wave  of  his  hand.  "Let  the  precious  hours  of  waking 
dawn  go  heedless  by,  and  blame  Fortune  for  your  poverty. 
Ye  clods  of  the  valley  !  Bah  !  to  eat,  to  wag  your  tongues, 
to  sleep, — tl'is  is  all  there  is  in  life  to  you,  ye  hewers  of 
wood  and  drawers  of  water  !" 

He  turned  to  answer  a  dolorous  whistle  from  Spike, 
when  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a  solitary  vehicle  coining 
rapidly  up  the  road  from  the  direction  of  the  miser's 
hut, 

"  Ah  !  Do  my  optics  practice  deception  upon  my  un 
quiet  soul,  or  do  I  behold  yon  rustic  driving  furiously 
apace,  as  if  he  were  the  bearer  of  ill  tidings  the  rising  sun 
would  blush  to  hear?"  and  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand, 
he  planted  one  foot  firmly  in  advance  of  the  other  and 


320  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

bent  forward,  gazing  steadily  at  the  approaching  wagon  in 
this  dramatic  position. 

"I  say,  Dibbs!"  cried  the  driver  when  he  had  conic 
within  bailing-distance.  "The  devil  has  broke  loose  this 
morning  !'' 

"Is  this  thy  sole  message  after  this  unseemly  haste,  my 
rural  friend?"  replied  the  deep  voice  of  Dibbs  as  lie 
slowly  raised  his  hand  with  a  contemptuous  gesture  that 
was  reflected  in  the  curl  of  his  lip,  "  Knowest  thou  not 
that  the  gentleman  to  whom  you  so  familiarly  allude  has 
been  meandering  unrestrained  through  the  world's  wide 
domain  ever  since  the  day  of  Adam's  unfortunate  com 
plications  with  his  matrimonial  partner  ?  Prithee,  toiler 
at  the  spade,  hadst  thou  told  me  the  devil  were  bound, 
then  would  I  indeed  have  welcomed  thee  as  a  blessed 
messenger  from  heaven's  aerial  vaults." 

The  driver,  although  he  had  halted  his  wagon,  made 
no  movement  to  leave  it.  He  sat  speechless,  with  the 
reins  in  his  listless  hands,  and  gazed  with  a  bewildered, 
ha  If- frightened  look  at  the  young  man,  just  as  he  would 
have  done  at  one  he  thought  insane,  and  Dibbs  returned 
his  gaze  with  a  steady  glance,  sharp  and  penetrating,  such 
as  he  had  often  seen  liader  Craft  employ  to  confound  a 
witness. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  gasped  the  man,  Avho 
wa<  noted  throughout  Slowville  for  the  feebleness  of  his 
mind. 

Then,  turning  warily  in  his  seat,  he  picked  up  the 
reins  with  a  slow  secret  motion,  and  the  next  instant 
yelled  frantically  for  his  horse  to  speed  away. 

"Halt,  spirit  of  the  morning  air!"  said  Dibbs  in  sono 
rous  tones  as  he  caught  the  gaunt  head  of  the  still 
gaunter  horse,  which  as  yet  had  made  no  effort  to  move. 
"Ere  thy  fleet  limbs  can  convey  thy  master  hence  he 
must  divulge  the  meaning  of  his  mysterious  words. — 
Friend  of  the  arable  soil,"  addressing  the  trembling 
drivei1,  "  open  with  quick  expansion  thy  parched  lips,  and 
tell  me  in  what  particular  locality  thou  hast  this  morning 
beheld  the  devil  in  his  customary  looseness.  Speak, 
vassal  !  What  hast  thy  dull  eyes  seen  to  so  affright 
thine  ignoble  soul  ?  What  is  it  thou  wouldst  tell  me, 


DIBBS  ARRIVES  AT  CONCLUSIONS.  321 

simple  wanderer  in  pastures  green?  Speak,  if  thou 
wouldst  prolong  thine  inoffensive  life  !" 

"The  miser's  •run  away  with  his  gold,  his  niece  was 
found  dead  in  the  road  last  night,  and  the  grave  in  the 
garden^is  open  to  the  bottom  and  there  is  nothing  in  it!" 
the  man  exclaimed  with  chattering  teeth. 

"  What !  Sayest  thou  so  ?  Then  get  thce  gone,  thou 
ill-omened  messenger  of  darkness!"  cried  Dibbs,  giving 
the  horse  a  fierce  poke  in  the  ribs  that  made  him  leap 
forward,  throwing  the  driver  heels  over  head  into  the 
back  of  the  wagon,  which  now  dashed  away  madly  along 
the  village  street,  with  the  wild  cries  of  the  overturned 
and  frightened  occupant  sounding  above  the  rattling  of 
the  wheels. 

u  Ay,  'tis  well  for  my  most  noble  purpose  that  thy 
panting  jade  doth  bear  thee  so  swiftly  from  the  confines 
of  this  curious  town,"  muttered  Dibbs  as  the  vehicle 
disappeared  with  unslackened  speed  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill.  "Ere  these  sleeping  gossips  awake  to  hear  thy 
villainous  news  1  myself  shall  have  probed  it  to  truth's 
clearest  bottom;  and  where  concealment  best  will  serve 
me,  there  will  I  hang  upon  my  tongue  the  dead  weight 
of  cunning  silence." 

Thrusting  his  hand  into  the  depths  of  his  hair  with  a 
muttered  "Ha!  ha!"  he  strode  into  the  bar-room,  casting 
behind  him  a  comprehensive  look  of  disgust  at  the  still 
nnaroused  village.  For  a  moment  he  stood  immovable 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  his  arms  folded,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  floor,  and  his  heavy  brows  knitted  in  a  por 
tentous  frown.  With  labored  breathing  he  walked  with 
measured  step  behind  the  bar  and  seized  his  hat  and  a 
stout  cane.  Shaking  his  head  mysteriously  at  Spike, 
who  was  imitating  the  frightened  cries  of  the  man  in  the 
runaway  wagon,  Dibbs  said  in  guttural  tones, 

"Spike,  there  is  horrible  news  abroad!  Cease  thy 
festive  imitations  of  Nature's  lamentations.  Silence  thy 
unseemly  joy;  for,  in  the  words  of  the  celestial  William, 
'Thy  father's  beard  is  turned  white  with  the  news: 
you  may  buy'  the  miser's  'land  now  as  cheap  as  stinking 
mackerel.' » 

Going  to  the  door  at  the  rear  of  the  bar,  he  flung  it 

V 


322  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

open,  and  with  a  frightful  yell  of  "  Bar,  Mrs.  Boozer  ! 
bar!"  slammed  it  shut  again,  and  exclaiming  "On,  most 
noble  youth,  with  lightning  swiftness  to  the  miser's 
domain  !"  darted  from  the  house  and  ran  fleetly  down  the 
road,  his  thoughts  not  less  active  in  suspicions  thgn  were 
his  limbs  quick  to  bear  him  hence. 

When,  in  a  very  short  time,  Dibbs  had  left  the  village 
far  behind  him,  and  his  eager  eyes  had  caught  sight  of 
Nicholas  Grundle's  hut,  he  came  to  a  sudden  halt.  Lay 
ing  his  hands  upon  his  panting  sides,  he  saw  a  cart  in 
front  of  the  miser's  door,  and  two  men  rapidly  loading  it 
with  the  furniture  they  were  hastily  dragging  out  from 
the  cottage. 

"  My  Milesian  friend  of  the  hardened  fist,  and  his  pros 
pective  father-in-law,"  he  muttered  as  his  keen  gaze  recog 
nized  the  parties.  "  But  by  whose  authority  are  they  thus 
possessing  themselves  of  the  miser's  personalty  ?  The 
plot  thickens.  I  will  continue  my  observations  at  a  dis 
tance.  When  in  doubt,  whether  in  physics  or  in  morals, 
take  to  the  woods." 

He  crept  swiftly  over  the  rail  fence,  and  crouching, 
made  his  way  stealthily  through  the  underbrush.  At  last 
he  hid  himself  behind  a  fallen  tree.  Here,  with  his  eves 
raised  just  high  enough  for  effective  vision,  he  watched 
the  men,  who  were  in  full  view,  and  only  a  little  way  off 
from  his  safe  hiding-place. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  saw,  with  great  relief  to  both 
his  constrained  position  and  impatient  thoughts,  the  load 
ing  completed,  the  cow  tied  to  the  cart,  and  the  vehicle 
driven  slowly  away  by  the  men  in  the  direction  of  the 
farm -house.  As  the  group  receded  farther  up  the  road 
he  raised  himself  upon  his  knees  and  kept  the  cart  in 
sight  until  he  saw  it  turn  into  the  lane  and  finally  come 
to  a  halt  in  front  of  the  farm-house  door.  Then,  with  a 
resolute  leap,  Dibbs  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  running  across 
the  clearing  was  in  the  miser's  hut  in  a  few  moments. 
His  heart  was  beating  boldly  in  spite  of  his  white  face 
and  startled  eyes;  for  a  passing  glance  had  shown  him 
that  the  housekeeper's  grave  was  not  disturbed.  He  had 
not  her  risen  ghost  to  interfere  with  the  investigations  he 
immediately  began  to  make. 


DIBBS  ARRIVES  AT  CONCLUSIONS.  323 

With  a  reassuring  shrug  of  his  shoulders  ami  a  tighter 
grip  upon  his  cane,  he  peered  cautiously  around  the  desert 
ed  room.  The  first  thing  upon  which  his  wary  glance 
fell  was  the  broken  valise,  and  near  it  the  pile  of  round 
packages  in  paper.  In  an  instant  he  recognized  the  va 
lise.  Bending  over  it,  he  emitted  a  long,  low  whistle, 
while  his  eyes  rolled  rapidly  with  a  look  of  mingled  sur 
prise  and  cunning.  But  he  said  nothing,  only  shook  his 
head  wisely.  Turning  the  valise  slowly  over,  the  letters 
u  J.  L.  A."  caught  his  eye. 

"An  alias!"  he  ejaculated  as  he  laid  his  finger  with  a 
little  exultant  smile  on  the  side  of  his  nose  and  whistled 
more  softly  as  he  winked.  He  stooped,  picked  up  one  of 
the  bundles,  and  slowly  unwrapped  it.  When  he  saw  it 
confained  only  a  common  stone,  he  gave  no  evidence  of 
surprise,  but  kept  on  winking  and  whistling,  the  look  of 
shrewdness  deepening  on  his  face  all  the  while.  When  he 
had  silently  unrolled  a  few  of  the  parcels  and  found  stones 
within,  he  tossed  those  he  had  unwrapped  out  of  the  win 
dow  one  by  one.  The  remainder  he  put  into  the  valise, 
fixing  its  shattered  sides  together  as  well  as  he  could. 
Without  a  word  he  carried  the  valise  quickly  into  the  back 
yard,  where  he  dropped  it  into  an  old  well,  and  saw  it  sink 
out  of  sight.  Silently  watching  the  spot  where  it  had  dis 
appeared  until  his  broad  grin  was  reflected  from  the  quiet 
surface  of  the  water,  Dibbs  returned  to  the  house.  With 
his  face  radiant  with  the  conclusions  this  discovery  had 
brought  him,  he  resumed  his  examination  of  the  premises. 
He  hunted  through  every  room  for  some  corroborative 
trace  of  what  he  suspected,  opening  every  closet  and  pry 
ing  into  every  corner.  But  nothing  rewarded  his  search. 
The  rooms  and  closets  were  as  bare  as  if  the  house  had 
never  been  occupied,  so  completely  had  the  men  cleared  it 
of  its  contents. 

Dibbs  found  a  piece  of  a  candle  on  the  floor.  This  he 
lighted,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  descended  to  the 
cellar,  holding  the  light  in  front  of  him,  swiftly  swaying 
his  cane  right  and  left,  and  all  the  while  loudly  call 
ing  on  several  imaginary  companions  to  follow  him.  A 
quick,  cautious  glance  around  this  apartment,  so  dark  and 
damp  and  -still,  told  him  he  had  nothing  to  fear.  The 


324  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPES. 

miser  Avas  not  here,  guarding  his  treasure  with  dog  and 
gun — if  treasure  there  had  boon  here  or  wore  now.  Dibbs 
flared  the  candle  over  his  head  and  listened,  lie  heard 
no  sounds  save  those  of  his  own  heavy  breathing  and 
the  throbbing  of  his  heart.  The  breathing  and  throb 
bing  were  loud  just  now;  for  courageous  as  Dibbs  was 
under  all  other  circumstances,  he  could  not  endure  dark 
ness  or  the  smell  of  damp  earth.  They  were  too  suggest 
ive  to  him  of  death  and  the  grave.  Trying  to  shake  off 
his  superstitious  fears  with  a  laugh,  which  was  verv  faint 
and  hollow,  he  advanced  farther  into  the  cellar  and  began 
a  rapid  survey  of  its  contents.  lie  peered  into  barrels  and 
boxes,  throwing  them  down  and  turning  them  over,  but 
each  and  all  of  them  he  found  contained  only  the  merest 
trash  and  refuse.  He  had  almost  given  up  the  idea  of 
finding  any  foundation  for  his  suspicion  that  here  was  the 
hiding-place  of  the  miser's  money  when  his  eye  caught 
jight  of  the  hole  in  £he  wall. 

Darting  over  to  it,  Dibbs  thrust  in  his  arm,  and  ex 
amined  every  inch  of  the  cavity.  But  as  he  at  length 
drew  out  his  empty  hand  there  was  no  look  of  disappoint 
ment  on  his  face — rather,  instead,  the  confident,  compre 
hensive  smile  with  which  he  had  regarded  the  valise  when 
his  eyes  had  first  fallen  upon  it  this  morning.  He  as 
cended  the  stairs  quickly,  flung  the  candle  in  the  fireplace, 
and  went  to  the  barn.  All  over  this  he  hunted  carefully, 
through  stalls  and  bins  and  mows,  and  then,  as  if  more 
than  satisfied  with  the  result  of  his  labors,  sought 'the 
road.  Here,  standing  in  deep  and  silent  meditation  for 
some  time,  his  puzzled  face  grew  clear  again,  and  he  bent 
his  steps  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  farm-house. 
Here  he  might  pick  up  the  missing  links  in  his  chain 
of  evidence. 

He  had  not  proceeded  far  on  his  way  before  he  met 
Dennis  O'Hara,  from  whom  he  soon  learned  all  the  par 
ticulars  of  which  that  loquacious  individual  was  possessed 
concerning  the  miser's  departure  and  what  had  befallen 
Kmily. 

'•A  very  improbable  tale!"  exclaimed  Dibbs  with  a 
doubtful  shake  of  his  head  as  the  man  finished  his  ac 
count,  considerably  enlarged  by  his  superstitious  imagi- 


DIBBS  ARRIVES  AT  CONCLUSIONS.  325 

nation.  "  And  lot  me  advise  yon  to  keep  it  to  yourself. 
If  Ruder  Craft  gets  hold  of  your  story,  you  will  iind 
yourself  clapped  into  jail  before  night  as  a  very  im 
portant  witness  in  the  case  for  the  Commonwealth  ;  for 
according  to  your  tale,  the  miser  has  been  murdered 
and  his  body  spirited  away,  as  well  as  his  gold." 

"Shure,  is  it  in  the  dhirty  jail  they  would  put  me  fur 
tcllin5  the  thruth,  do  you  say,  Mr.  Dibbs?''  asked  O'Hara, 
his  voice  quaking. 

"  Even  so,  my  nimblc-tongued  Milesian.  The  cause 
of  justice  invariably  demands  the  incarceration  of  the 
principal  witness  to  a  capital  crime.  But  if  you  hold 
your  tongue  fast,  and  know  nothing  about  this  affair, 
you  will  be  safe.  You  know  it  is  best  sometimes  for  a 
man-  to  be  dumb.  Eh?" 

"  Throth,  I  do  !  An'  it's  not  a  word  out  o'  me  tight  lips 
they'll  get,  no  more  nor  out  o'  me  horse,  bedad  !  Be  jabers, 
he  can  tell  them  more  than  I  know,  at  all,  at  all — the 
dhirty  blackguards,  thini  lawyers,  tryin'  to  git  an  honest 
man  in  jail,  bad  'cess  to  thim  !" 

O'Hara  shook  his  fist  vigorously  at  the  village  court 
house,  visible  on  the  distant  hill. 

"Hold  to  those  sentiments,  and  you  will  keep  out  of 
trouble.  Good  luck  to  your  silence!  Don't  let  your  wife 
break  it  with  a  broomstick.  I  must  be  going." 

Dibhs  turned  away  and  continued  his  walk  toward  the 
farm-house.  But  when  O'Hara,  shaking  his  head  and  fist 
bv  turns,  had  parsed  out  of  sight  at  the  bend  of  the  road, 
Dibbs  seated  himself  with  an  air  of  important  deliberation 
beneath  a  tree  by  the  wayside  and  gave  himself  up  to  deep 
cogitation,  holding  his  head  tightly  clasped  between  his  two 
hands,  as  was  the  lawyer's  custom  when  studying  a  knotty 
question.  For  a  long  time  Dibbs  remained  thus  motion 
less  and  speechless,  his  brows  alternately  knitting  and  re 
laxing,  his  face  now  covered  with  perplexing  frowns  and 
anon  lighted  up  with  quick  smiles  of  apprehension.  Turn 
over  the  case  as  lie  would,  and  view  it  in  all  the  different 
lights  of  his  keen  analysis  of  the  facts,  he  could  not  arrive 
with  perfect  clearness  at  the  conclusions  he  sought  to  es 
tablish,  which  were  that  Nicholas  Grundle  had  been  rob 
bed  by  the  mysterious  stranger,  and  that  the  miser's  disap- 

28 


326  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

peair.ive  was  in  some  way  connected  with  the  robberv. 
How  to  reconcile  these  two  conclusions  \vas  the  question 
that  puzzled  him.  He  raised  his  head  at  last  with  a  serene 
smile,  and  looked  at  a  heap  of  stones  alongside  of  him  with 
judicial  gravity. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  he  said  with  a  preliminary 
cough,  bowing  sternly  in  the  direction  of  the  stones,  "you 
have  heard  the  facts  presented  by  the  Commonwealth  in 
this  case  with  all  the  lucidity  of  clearness  for  which  out 
most  eminent  and  learned  district  attorney  is  so  conspic 
uously  distinguished.  It  now  remains  for  me,  sitting  as 
judge  in  this  important  trial,  to  furnish  to  your  limited 
understandings  the  principles  of  law  bv  which  you  shall 
judge  of  these  facts  and  properly  apply  them  in  the  con 
sideration  of  your  verdict. 

"  At  the  outset  of  my  charge  I  would  impress  upon  your 
diminutive  intellects  the  principles  of  evidence  by  which 
you  are  to  be  guided  as  laid  down  by  that  most  eminent 
authority  on  the  law  of  evidence,  the  Honorable  Thomas 
Starkie,  Esq.  What  says  the  most  noble  Starkie?  I  quote 
his  language  literally,  committed  to  memory  but  a  day 
since  in  the  office  of  that  wily  practitioner,  Ivader  Craft, 
Esq.,  who  knows  more  tortuous  and  belated  law  than  is 
good  for  his  conscience — if  he  have  any — or  the  peace 
of  this  community.  Starkie  says  : 

"'Where  knowledge  cannot  be  acquired  by  means  of 
actual  and  personal  observation,  there  are  but  two  modes 
by  which  the  existence  of  a  bygone  fact  can  be  ascer 
tained. 

"  '  Firstly.  By  information  derived  either  immediately 
or  mediately  from  those  who  had  actual  knowledge  of  the 
fact ;  or, 

"'Secondly.  By  means  of  inferences  or  conclusions 
drawn  from  other  facts  connected  with  the  principal  fact 
which  can  be  sufficiently  established. 

"'All  evidence  thus  derived,  whether  immediately  or 
mediately,  from  such  as  have  had,  or  are  supposed  to  have 
had,  actual  knowledge  of  the  fact,  mav  not  improperly  be 
termed  direct  evidence;  whilst  that  which  is  derived  merely 
from  collateral  circumstances  may  be  termed  indirect  or 
inferential  evidence.' 


DIBBS  ARRIVES  AT  CONCLUSIONS.  327 

"  Keeping  these  two  methods  of  procedure  as  distinct  as 
possible  in  your  feeble  comprehensions,  let  us  proceed  to 
apply  them  to  the  present  issue. 

"Ab  initio,  it  is  evident  that  the  Commonwealth  has 
signally  failed  to  establish  by  the  aforesaid  first  method 
the  first  count  in  its  indictment  against  the  defendant, 
Seth  Slade — namely,  that  of  murder.  For,  beyond  the 
cry  of  help  from  the  supposed  victim,  testified  to  by  his 
daughter,  who  was  not  even  an  eye-witness  to  the  deadly 
struggle  which  the  Commonwealth  avers  took  place,  there 
lias  not  been  a  particle  of  evidence  submitted  to  establish 
the  theory  of  such  a  capital  crime  as  here  charged  having 
been  committed,  while,  on  the  contrary,  there  is  the  strong 
est  indirect  evidence  against  it. 

"The  body  of  the  supposititious  murdered  man  has  not 
been  found,  nor  has  the  most  careful  examination  of  the 
premises  of  Nicholas  Grand le  given  any  indications  that 
such  a  calamity  did  befall  him. 

"  Dismissing,  then,  this  first  and  unsustained  count  in 
the  indictment,  let  ns  proceed  to  the  next,  which  charges 
the  defendant,  Seth  Slade,  with  the  robbery  of  the  afore 
said  Grnndle. 

"  Without  going  through  in  detail  the  admirably  suc 
cinct  testimony  of  our  esteemed  fellow-townsman,  William 
Dibbs,  Esq.,  it  must  be  apparent  to  your  most  obtuse 
intelligences  that  the  charge  of  robbery  against  the  de 
fendant  has  been  more  than  sustained.  All  the  circum 
stances,,  direct  and  indirect,  point  inevitably  to  such  a 
conclusion,  whether  we  consider  the  midnight  visitations 
of  Seth  Slade  to  the.  miser's  cottage,  or  the  mysterious 
and  dangerous  character  of  the  said  Slade,  or  the  evidence 
he  left  behind  of  the  manner  in  which  he  gained  his 
victim's  confidence;  for  that  valise  filled  with  stones, 
gentlemen,  clearly  indicates  a  deception  practiced  for 
sinister  motives.  As  our  Roman  ancestors  would  observe, 
Sapprcssio  veri,  suggcdlo  falsi,  which  our  classical  attor 
ney,  Ilader  Craft,  Esq.,  would  liberally  translate  thus: 
'  He  who  deceives  is  also  false  to  all  the  noble  elements 
of  our  nature.' 

"  And  now,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  our  worthy  witness, 
William  Dibbs,  Esq.,  having  clearly  shown  that  the 


328  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

defendant  was  a  stranger  to  Nicholas  Grnndle,  his  beiii2 
seen  at  the  miser's  cottage  in  the  dead  hour  of  the  night 
is  invulnerable  proof  that  the  said  Slade  was  not  there 
from  motives  of  friendship;  and  the  unsocial  character 
of  the-  miser  also  precludes  the  idea  that  the  defendant 
might  have  been  an  invited,  or  even  tolerated,  guest. 

"  No,  gentlemen.  Seth  Slade  is  a  robber  of  the  deepest 
dye;  for,  violating  the  sanctity  of  hospitality,  lie  first 
overcame  his  victim  by  personal  violence,  as  the  cry  for 
help  attests,  and  then,  while  the  poor  old  man  lay 
stretched  helpless  upon  the  floor,  the  unconscionable 
villain  descended  with  swift  feet  to  the  cellar,  laid  his 
surreptitious  hands  upon  the  miser's  treasure,  and  fled 
with  it  under  the  cover  of  darkness. 

"Does  the  Commonwealth  attempt  to  rebut  this  indi 
rect  evidence,  so  cumulative,  by  the  mere  assertion  that 
if  Nicholas  Grand le  had  been  robbed  he  would  be  here 
to-day  to  tell  us  the  tale  and  method  of  his  misfortune? 
On  the  contrary,  would  not  his  uncommunicative  nature 
make  him  keep  his  secret  and  himself  devise  some  way 
to  regain  his  stolen  property  without,  bv  publicity,  letting 
it  fall  a  spoil  to  lawyers  and  detectives?  Is  it  improbable 
— nay,  is  it  not  probable — that  as  soon  as  Nicholas  Grun- 
dle  discovered  his  loss  he  started  in  pursuit  of  the  thief, 
and  is  this  very  moment  bending  all  his  cunning  faculties 
to  the  search  ?  What  other  reason  than  this  would  lead 
the  miser  to  desert  his  daughter,  for  whom,  as  we  all 
know,  he  had  an  affection  that  amounted  to  insanity,  so 
closely  did  he  guard  her  from  intercourse  with  the  outer 
world — so  jealous  of  his  child  indeed — as  has  been  abun 
dantly  testified — that  she  must  hear  no  olher  voice  than 
his  wakening  the  sad  solitudes  of  her  secluded  life? 

"  No,  gentlemen,  it  is  preposterous  to  suppose  that 
Nicholas  Grundle  went  away  willingly  with  the  man  who 
robbed  him,  and  equally  untenable  is  the  proposition  that 
for  any  reason  beyond  the  attempt  to  recover  his  property 
he  so  suddenly  deserted  a  child  to  whom  he  had  devoted 
every  moment  of  his  life  since  first  he  came  within  the 
limits  of  this  village,  now  sleeping  so  soundly  on  yonder 
hill,  gleaming  in  the  risen  sun.  Such,  then,  I  see,  is  your 
verdict — the  defendant  guiltv  of  robberv.  You  need  not 


DIBBS  ARRIVES  AT  CONCLUSIONS.  329 

formally  announce  your  finding.  I  will  immediately 
enter  it  on  record  and  dismiss  you  from  further  con 
sideration  of  this  case.  If  it  is  objected  by  some  of  you 
that  I  have  transcended  my  powers  as  a  judge  by  my 
self  trying  and  deciding  the  case  without  your  assistance,  it 
may  be  well  for  you  to  know  that  I  act  thus  not  only  from 
inclination,  but  by  precedent  as  well.  It  is  the  province 
as  well  as  the  honorable  distinction  of  gigantic  intellects 
to  assume  extra-judicial  powers  for  the  public  good." 

With  a  dismissing  wave  of  his  hand  he  arose  from  his 
seat,  and  walking  a  few  steps  with  haughty  dignity 
hurried  on  to  the  farm-house.  The  only  indication  he 
gave  of-  the  course  he  intended  to  pursue  in  this  matter, 
which  he  felt  he  had  examined  in  all  its  legal  aspects,  was 
an 'energetic;  soliloquy  as  he  turned  into  the  lane. 

"  Seth  Slade,"  he  said  with  hoarse  and  measured  accents, 
"before  the  morning's  dawn  you  will  have  Bill  Dibbs 
upon  your  track  ;  and  if  the  miser  cometh  down  hand 
somely  with  the  ducats,  I  shall  submit  you  to  his  tender 
mercy.  Ah  ha  !  boast  not  thyself  of  safety  !  I  have  no 
fear  of  losing  either  you  or  the  treasure.  But  where  to 
find  the  miser?  Well,  I'll  get  a  clew  to  him  before  the 
day  has  passed.  Now,"  with  a  heavy  sigh  as  he  drew 
near  the  house,  "to  lift  the  weight  of  dread  suspicion  from 
the  lovely  heart  of  beauteous  Aziel.  Little  her  waiting, 
dreading  soul  imagines  the  soothing  balm  I  bear  her! 
Plow  her  heavenly  bosom  will  heave  with  joy's  most  sud 
den  transport  when  my  lips  assure  her  that  no  more  need 
she  fear  the  visits  of  the  obnoxious  stranger  !" 

Unobserved,  Dibbs  crept  cautiously  to  the  rear  of  the 
house,  and  peeped  through  the  kitchen-window  with  his 
uninjured  eye.  Azicl,  who  was  alone,  saw  him,  and  lav 
ing  her  finger  on  her  lips  stepped  softly  to  the  door,  and 
opened  it  with  a  smile  of  welcome  which  quickly  gave 
way  to  a  questioning  look  of  fear. 

"The  girl  is  sale?"  asked  Dibbs  in  a  whisper,  his 
face  suddenly  erowin";  scarlet  under  her  earnest  though 

J      O  O  O 

friendly  gaze. 

"  Yes,"  Aziel  replied  ;  " but  what  news  have  you?  Has 
anything  been  discovered  ?" 

"  Calm  the  tumult  of  (hy  soul,"  he  rejoined,  throwing 
28* 


330  AS  IT  MAY  JIAPPEX. 

a  deep  meaning  into  his  low  voice.  "  Xo  longer  need  you 
fear  the  return  of  the  mysterious  stranger.  These  pre 
cincts  he  will  never  willingly  tread  again.  Last  night's 
was  his  final  visit  in  this  locality,  or  I  was  not  born  a 
prophet.  I  am  here  to  tell  you  this,  and  to  bid  you  good 
bye.  Some  future  time  you  may  better  understand  my 
meaning  in  regard  to  the  movements  of  Seth  Slade.  For 
the  present  know  that  the  miser's  treasure  was  more  cer 
tain  to  the  aforesaid  Slade  than  Gagger's  generosity,  more 
desirable  to  him  than  even  keeping  you  two  women  in 
constant  terror.  Again  I  say,  'Farewell!'  If  you  should 
ever  need  a  friend,  write  to  yours  truly,  William  Dibbs, 
Philadelphia." 

"Are  you  going  away  very  soon  ?"  she  asked,  trying  to 
conceal  the  agitation  which  his  mention  of  Seth  Blade's 
name  as  well  as  his  strange  explanation  of  recent  events 
had  caused.  "Can  you  not  wait  till  we  know  more  about 
what  really  happened  last  night?  You  certainly  are 
aware  how  much  we  need  your  friendship.  Pardon  me, 
but  I  have  been  so  interested  in  your  words  that  I  have 
forgotten  to  apologize  for  the  rudeness  with  which  Pat 
rick  treated  you.  I  hope  your  eye  was  not  seriously 
injured  ?" 

"The  lawyer  settled  this  claim  for  damages,"  said  Dibbs 
with  a  droll  wink,  pointing  to  the  injured  member,  "so 
Ave  will  dismiss  further  consideration  of  it.  Yes,  I  must 
speedily  depart  from  Slowville.  Delays  are  dangerous, 
and  this  is  not  the  field  for  investigation.  Believe  me, 
my  protecting  care  is  no  longer  necessary  to  your  welfare. 
One  word  of  warning,  and  I  am  done.  Beware  of  the 
lawyer!  Neither  you  nor  Mrs.  Gagger  will  longer  need 
his  services  or  friendship.  Last  night  the  exigence  for 
these  ceased  to  exist.  The  robbery  of  Nicholas  Grnndle 
may  be  the  miser's  loss,  but  it  is  your  gain.  Good-bye  !'' 

He  caught  Axiel's  hand  in  his  vehement  grasp  and  kiss 
ed  it  with  a  fervor  that  half  amused  and  half  startled  her. 
lie  let  it  go  as  quickly  as  he  had  seized  it,  and  in  another 
instant  had  turned  silently  away,  striding  slowly  around 
the  corner  of  the  house.  As  he  went  his  eyes  fell  upon  a 
little  bunch  of  red  roses  lying  on  the  ground.  He  recog 
nized  them  with  a  faint  start  of  jov. 


DIBBS  ARRIVES  AT  CONCLUSIONS.  331 

" Mrs. Boozer's  flowers!"  he  exclaimed  under  his  breath. 
"Little  she  dreamed,  when  she  pinned  them  on  the  law 
yer's  noble  breast,  that  he  would  give  them  to  Aziel  as  a 
token  of  his  love.  But  I  will  tell  the  too  trusting  Boozer 
of  his  perfidy.  Yes,  her  innocent  heart  shall  this  very 
day  know  the  depth  of  Rader  Craft's  deception." 

Dibbs  quickened  his  pace  down  the  lane,  and  was  con 
gratulating  himself  that  lie  had  escaped  meeting  Patrick 
Doyle,  when  he  heard  the  voice  of  that  individual  calling 
to  him  from  behind  the  fence  at  the  rear  of  the  barn-yard. 

"The  top  o'  the  mornin'  to  ye,  Misther  Tibbs  !"  cried 
Doyle  with  a  bantering  flourish  of  his  hand.  "Is  it  seein' 
much  ye  are  out  o'  yer  widdered  eye?  For,  troth,  I  can 
see  it's  as  black  as  a  widder's  crape." 

'"  No,  I  don't  see  very  well,  child  of  the  bog!  I  thought 
your  head  was  a  pumpkin  or  a  cabbage  sitting  on  the 
fence,"  yelled  back  Dibbs,.  keeping  on  his  way. 

"  Be  jabers,  it's  very  blind  ye  are;  but  the  more  ye  sees, 
the  less  ye  knows,  bedad.  Shtire,  it's  loike  one  o'  yer  own 
whiskey-bottles  ye  are — the  liss  there's  in  ye,  the  more 
powerful  sound  ye  make,  ye  chatin'  vagabond,  that  never 
yit  sold  a  pure  dhrop  o'  the  crathur!" 

Dibbs  was  by  this  time  beyond  the  reach  of  the  Irish 
man's  voice,  and  striding  rapidly  along  the  main  road. 
Before  he  reached  the  miser's  hut  he  left  the  thoroughfare 
and  continued  his  way  across  the  fields  to  the  village.  He 
did  not  enter  the  town,  but  making  a  circuit  of  it  ar 
rived  at  the  depot,  and  there  sought  out  the  man  who  had 
be:>n  on  watch  the  previous  night.  From  this  official, 
after  cautious  questioning,  Dibbs  learned  that  at  about  five 
o'clock  that  morning  a  very  old  man  with  a  savage-look 
ing  dog  had  come  by  himself  to  the  depot  and  begged  a 
ride  on  a  freight-train  just  about  starting  east. 

"Did  you  put  him  aboard  the  train?"  asked  Dibbs. 

"Oh  yes;  he  begged  and  cried  so,  saying  it  was  a  case 
of  life  and  death  with  him,  that  I  let  him  and  his  dog  get 
into  an  empty  box-car,  and  off  they  went." 

"  Humph  !"  muttered  Dibbs,  turning  indifferent!  v  away; 
"some  old  tramp  on  his  travels,  I  s  ispect.  The  tears  lie 
mighty  near  a  fraud's  eyes.  Well,  it  was  a  good  thing  you* 
passed  him  on.  Slowville  can't  afford  to  feed  tramps  and 


332  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEX. 

run  the  poor-house  too.  Was  the  d  >g  a  black-and-white 
mastiff  with  cropped  ears  and  a  stub  tail?" 

'•  Yes ;  hut  come,  now,  how  did  von  know  anything 
about  that  don-?''  queried  the  man  with  a  suspu'ious 
look. 

"  In  the  language  of  the  sarcastic  levitv  of  the  beau 
tiful  Beatrice,  I  reply,"  said  Dibbs  with  a  sly  wink,  "'I 
have  a  good  eye,  uncle.  I  can  see  a  church  by  daylight.'" 

Before  the  watchman  could  answer,  Dibb.s  had  leaped 
from  the  platform  and  was  on  a  brisk  walk  to  the  town. 

"The  last  missing  link  of  my  bright  chain  of  suspicion 
has  been  found,"  muttered  Dibbs,  smothering  his  triumph 
ant  laugh,  as  he  stole  along  the  street  toward  the  inn.  "Ah 
ha!  T  knew  it !  Nicholas  Grundle  awoke  from  his  dead 
ly  stupor  to  find  himself  robbed.  lie  wasted  no  precious 
time  in  bewailing  his  loss.  With  instant  cunning  he 
found  some  clew  that  pointed  to  the  direction  his  despoiler 
had  taken.  He  hastened  in  pursuit  of  him.  Philadelphia 
•\vas  the  objective-point  of  pursuer  and  pursued.  The  rob 
ber  and  his  victim  sped  over  the  same  track,  but  the  ex 
press  carried  the  one,  and  the  freight  the  other — the  fox 
and  the  goose,  the  hare  and  the  tortoise.  But  the  gno-e 
shall  pluck  the  fox  by  the  ears,  and  the  tortoise  shall  catch 
the  hare.  Thus  saith  William  Dibbs,  who  will  bring  to 
pass  his  individual  prophecy  by  his  personal  presence  in 
the  city  of  Philadelphia.  When  shall  I  go?  '  This  very 
night !'  mv  energetic  and  enthusiastic  soul  responds.  In 
the  words  of  Ilader  Craft,  that  embodiment  of  legal  lore, 
1  Whv  should  I  longer  deiav  ?  Xor  will  I.'  " 

*  o  •/ 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

THE  TALE  OF  THE  ROSES. 


HEX  Dibbs  entered  the  bar-room  of  the  Green  Tree 
Inn,  he  was  not  surprised  at — in  fact,  he  was  antici 
pating — the  verv  reception  with  which  Mrs.  Boo/er  saluted 
him. 

"Well,  this  is  high  carryings-on.!     You  gadding    all 


THE   TALE   OF  THE  ROSES.  333 

over  tlio  country  ami  leaving  my  business  to  take  care 
of  itself !"  exclaimed  tlmt  irate  female,  standing  behind  the 
bar,  her  arms  akimbo  and  flaring  her  indignant  eyes 
on  him. 

"  Madam,"  replied  Dibbs,  removing  his  hat  with 
a  dignified  salute  and  throwing  back  his  head  with  a 
proud  gesture,  "allow  me  to  observe  that  the  violence 
of  your  manner  is  equaled  by  the  inaccuracy  of  your 
grammar.  Only  when  used  in  the  collective  sense  are 
plural  nouns  entitled  to  a  singular  predicate — 

"Come  !"  she  angrily  interrupted,  striding  from  behind 
the  bar  with  a  threatening  flourish  of  her  arm  ;  "  I  don't 
want  to  hear  any  of  your  grammar.  I  pay  you  for  your 
time,  and  I  have  a  right  to  know  how  you  spend  it. 
Where  have  you  been  these  three  mortal  hours?  That's 
the  question.  Been  up  to  the  miser's  hut  with  the  rest 
of  the  fools,  I  suppose.  As  if  it  was  any  of  your  business 
what  has  become  of  the  old  skinflint!" 

"  Mrs.  Boozer,"  said  Dibbs,  still  preserving  his  dignified 
attitude  and  waving  his  hand  with  a  conciliatory  motion, 
"  before  proceeding  farther  in  this  conversation,  which 
promises  to  become  very  interesting  ere  it  be  concluded,  I 
tender  you,  with  my  profound  respect,  my  resignation,  to 
take  effect  at  daylight  this  morning." 

Mrs.  Boozer's  anger  gave  way  to  astonishment. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  ain't  going  to  'tend  my  bar 
anv  more?  Whv,  it  was  only  last  night  you  said  you 

.  t,-    '  •/  O  v  •/ 

would  stay  on  another  year." 

"  Madam,  in  the  words  of  our  mutual  friend,  the  law 
yer,  Tenipora  mutantur,  et  nos  mutamur  in  ill  in — tjie  times 
are  changed,  and  we  are  changed  with  them.  To  alter 
one's  determination  is  not  so  much  an  evidence  of  incon 
sistency  as  it  is  an  indication  of  a  maturer  and  more  en 
lightened  deliberation.  As  Major  Allchin,  of  the  Patriot, 
would  say,  I  print,  but  do  not  stereotype,  my  opinions. 
There  is  continually  going  on  here,"  tapping  his  forehead 
significantly,  "an  unconscious  cerebral  progress,  so  that 
William  Dibbs  is  wiser  on  awakening  in  the  morning  than 
when  he  went  to  sleep.  True  it  is  that  I  am  resolved  no 
longer  to  be  your  servant  in  a  fiduciary  capacity.  But 
although  from  this  hour  I  have  ceased  to  elevate  vender 


334  AS  IT  ^Li  Y  I1APPEX. 

bottles  for  your  pecuniary  benefit,  I  nevertheless  shall  ever 
bear  within  this  bosom  a  grateful  sense  of  obligations  re 
ceived  at  your  generous  hands,  forgetting  only  ho\v  oft 
your  clarion  voice  has  unjustly  accused  me  of  a  slothful 
performance  of  my  manifold  duties.  Commercially,  fare 
well,  friend  of  my  early  youth  !" 

He  advanced  with  a  halting  pace,  slowly  drawing  one 
foot  after  the  other  with  a  scraping  motion.  He  extended 
his  hand,  which  she  hesitatingly  shook  with  a  bewildered 
and  half-amused  air.  His  announcement  of  his  intention 
.to  leave  and  the  manner  in  which  he  had  made  it  equally 
surprised  and  confused  her,  but  she  could  not  help  smiling 
at  his  tragic  airs. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  wihl  not  stay,"  she  said,  her  manner 
more  gentle,  as  Dibbs  withdrew  his  hand  and  folding  his 
arms  regarded  her  in  silence,  "  but  I  have  been  expecting 
this.  I  always  thought  there  was  more  sense  in  you  than 
you  let  on  to  have.  I  told  Mr.  Craft  yesterday,  when  he 
was  speaking  to  me  about  keeping  you,  that  you  would 
soon  be  flying  off.  I  have  noticed  a  long  time,  what  with 
your  reading  all  dav  and  studying  all  night,  that  YOU  were 
getting  above  your  business.  Dear  me!  I  never  knew  it 
to  lull.  As  soon  as  people  get  a  little  learning  into  their 
heads  they  ain't  fit  for  hard  work  any  more." 

"  Far  be  it  from  me,"  rejoined  Dibbs  with  increasing 
animation,  thrusting  his  left  thumb  into  the  arm-hole  of 
his  vest  and  his  right  hand  gesticulating  with  rapid  and 
graceful  motions — "  far  be  it  from  me  to  defend  the  in 
dolence  of  those  whose  physical  endeavors  do  not  keep 
pare  with  their  intellectual  attainments.  But,  most  noble 
madam,  I  claim  to  belong  to  a  higher  race  of  men.  Learn 
ing  is  to  me  only  the  stepping-stone  to  progress.  As 
the  body  itself,  even  in  its  simplest  movements,  cannot 
advance  so  much  as  a  step  without  an  intelligent  direction 
of  the  muscular  system,  so  neither  can  the  highest  results 
of  labor  in  any  sphere  be  attained  without  that  mental 
discernment  which  comes  only  by  that  laborious  develop 
ment  of  the  higher  faculties  of  the  mind  which  philos 
ophers  call  wisdom.  Simple  learning  may  not  make  a 
man  industrious — wisdom  can,  and  will.  And  what  does 
that  wisdom  which  I  have  acquired  iu  the  methods  you 


THE   TALE   OF  THE  ROSES.  335 

so  felicitously  describe  teach  me  ?  What  says  her  voice, 
crying,  not  in  the  streets  as  of  old,  but  in  my  individual 
auricular  organs  ?  She  informs  me  that  a  higher  sphere 
than  yonder  bar  awaits  me.  Yes,  there  is  a  niche  in  the 
temple  of  fame  awaiting  my  occupation.  In  that  beckon 
ing  niche,  be  it  small  or  great,  William  Dibbs  will  soon 
erect  his  corporosity  by  the  exertions  of  his  own  hands, 
the  strivings  of  his  own  genius,  the  elevating  powers  of 
his  ever-expanding  intellect.  Mrs.  Boozer,  this  very  night, 
with  no  companion  save  Spike,  shall  I  set  out  upon  my 
journey  to  fame  and  fortune.  The  way  may  be  long,  but 
more  firm  shall  be  my  each  succeeding  step  ;  the  way  may 
be  dark,  but  brighter  shall  glow  my  undaunted  eyes  ;  the 
way  may  be  steep  and  stony  and  tortuous,  leading  through 
dangers  and  misfortunes,  but  all  the  more  resolutely  shall 
I  keep  on  my  course,  until  in  that  glorious  niche  I  stand, 
rewarded  at  last  for  all  my  endeavors  by  hearing  the  sweet 
sound  of  Fame's  trumpet  ringing  in  my  joyful  ears.  Most 
worthy  woman,  good-bye !  And  allow  me  to  express  the 
heartfelt  wish  that  the  Green  Tree  Inn  may  stand  many 
years,  a  welcome  to  the  weary  traveler,  and  may  Fortune's 
hand  ever  rest  with  favor  on  your  angelic  brow !" 

Before  he  had  ceased  speaking  the  smiles  had  died  out 
of  his  listener's  face,  and  she  was  wiping  a  stray  tear  or 
two  out  of  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  apron.  Mrs. 
Boozer's  tears  were  like  the  contents  of  the  bottles  on  the 
bar — diluted  to  a  considerable  degree,  but  still  retaining  a 
recognizable  trace  of  the  genuine  spirit. 

"I  am  sorry  you're  going,  William,"  she  was  saying, 
accompanying  her  words  with  a  sniffle.  "It  leaves  me  in 
the  lurch.  I  don't  know  who  I  can  get  to  take  your  place. 
It's  so  hard  to  find  honest  people  nowadays.  Dear  me  !  a 
lone  woman  has  a  hard  lot  in  this  world  !" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Boozer,  the  female  mind  is  naturally  de 
pendent.  The  ivy  clings  not  more  closely  to  the  sturdy 
oak  than  does  the  heart  of  trusting  woman  seek  sympathy 
and  support  iu  the  tenderness  and  strength  of  the  mascu 
line  embrace.  But  even  here  is  danger  greater  to  her 
than  in  her  loneliness.  She  may  find  when  too  late 
that  she  has  sacrificed  her  heart's  dearest  treasures  on 
the  altar  of  man's  deceitfuluess  and  selfishness.  And  if, 


336  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEX. 

like  yourself,  she  have  fortune,  let  her  beware  of  man's 
seductive  smile,  his  flattering  words,  his  devoted  atten 
tions,  or  she  will  discover  ere  the  honevmoon  be  over  that 
it  was  her  fortune  that  he  wooed,  her  possessions  that  he 
sought,  her  well-filled  purse  that  he  smiled  upon." 

"  I  declare,  how  much  you  talk  like  Mr.  Craft !"  she 
said  with  just  a  visible  blush  overspreading  her  broad 
faee,  that  beamed  with  admiration.  "He'll  be  very  sorry 
to  have  you  go  away.  You  know  he  thinks  a  great  deal 
of  you.  He  was  loud  in  his  praises  of  von  vesterdav." 

"Was  he?"  sneered  Dibbs,  slowly  curling  his  lip  and 
snapping  his  finger  contemptuously  over  his  shoulder. 
"That  for  his  praise!"  and  with  another  and  louder 
snap,  "That  for  his  friendship!" 

"  Why,  William,  how  can  you  speak  that  way  of  the 
noblest  man  in  all  this  town  ?  I  thought  you  were  his 
friend.  What  has  he  clone  to  you  ?" 

"  Nothing  to  me.  But  I  were  indeed  base  did  I  see 
him  deceiving  my  best  friend  and  not  resent  it  with  all 
the  powers  of  my  noble  soul,"  said  Dibbs,  giving  a  stout 
blow  upon  his  bosom  with  his  open  hand,  and  with  a 
wrathful  flash  in  his  eyes,  which  now  fastened  them 
selves  upon  the  face  of  the  woman'  with  a  meaning  gaze. 

"Who  is  he  deceiving?"  she  asked  at  length,  her 
countenance  taking  slowly  on  a  white,  anxious  look  as 
his  expression  softened  into  a  sympathetic  glance. 

"Mrs.  Boozer,"  exclaimed  Dibbs  in  a  tremulous 
whisper,  seizing  her  by  the  hand  and  putting  his  mouth 
close  to  her  ear,  "  be  not  alarmed  !  Make  no  outcry,  for 
your  salvation  depends  upon  your  heeding  my  \vords.  Be 
ware  of  the  lawyer!  lie  is  deceiving  you.  I  have  this 
morning  seen  the  evidence  of  his  treachery  !" 

"  I  do  not  believe  you,"  she  gasped,  her  face  growing 
whiter  and  her  body  swaying  to  and  fro  in  his  arms, 
which  he  had  thrown  around  her  to  prevent  her  falling. 

"  Madam,  rouse  yourself!  This  is  no  time  or  place  to 
give  way  to  your  emotion.  Here !  be  seated  in  this 
chair,"  pushing  her  into  one  near  by.  "Retain  your 
self-possession  until  I  bring  you  some  reviving  fluid 
that  will  put  at  least  temporary  vigor  into  vour  sinking 
soul." 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  ROSES.  337 

"  No,  no !"  she  murmured,  suddenly  regaining  some 
what  of  composure  as  she  put  out  her  hands  beseechingly. 
"Go  on  and  tell  me  what  you  know.  And  oh,  William, 
speak  the  truth,  even  if  it  breaks  my  heart  to  hear  it." 

"  Let  your  heart  bend,  my  dear  madam,  but  not  break. 
Let  it  not,  like  the  unyielding  oak,  be  uprooted  by  the 
violence  of  the  storm,  but  rather,  like  the  graceful  lily  of 
the  valley,  bend  its  tender  blossoms  beneath  the  fury  of 
the  gale  and  smile  again  in  the  coming  sunlight — " 

"Oh,  William,  William,  will  you  speak  and  tell  me 
what  the  bad  news  is?"  she  interrupted  with  a  wail i no- 
cry,  burying  her  tear-streaming  face  in  her  hands  and 
rocking-  her  portly  frame  to  and  fro. 

"  In  the  identical  language  of  the  deceiver  himself, 
'Why  should  I  longer  delay?  Nor  will  I.'  Mrs. 
Boozer,  yesterday  you  pinned  upon  the  lawyer's  breast 
three  flowers — red  roses,  love's  truest  language,  typical, 
doubtless,  of  your  love,  faith  and  devotion.  Where  are 
those  flowers  now,  that  on  yonder  bush  wept  without  woe 
and  blushed  without  a  crime  in  dewy  splendor?  Are 
they  imparting  to  the  lawyer's  heart  the  peace  of  love 
assured,  or  are  they  blushing  unseen  and  wasting  their 
fragrance  on  the  desert  air?  For  answer,  my  dear 
madam,  let  your  imagination  follow  me  to  the  farm-house 
on  the  distant  hill,  where  last  night  the  lawyer  wooed 
another  heart  than  yours  with  the  flowers  you  gave  him. 
Ay,  do  not  start,  and  I  pray  thee  curb  thine  ire  till  a 
more  fitting  season,  nor  let  thine  anger  go  forth  to  wreak 
itself  unjustly  upon  the  innocent  object  of  his  treacher 
ous  affections.  Though  he  gave  these  flowers,  fresh  with 
the  dew  of  thy  fondest  affections,  to  Aziel  Loyd,  they 
were  spurned  by  her  even  as  she  rejected  his  proffered 
love.  This  morning  mine  own  eves  saw  them  Iving 
neglected  on  their  mother-earth,  where  she  to  whom  he 
had  given  them  had  cast  them  with  disdainful  hand." 

"Oh,  the  scoundrel!  the  viper!"  almost  shrieked  Mrs. 
Boozer,  her  face  no  longer  white,  but  reddening  with  fury 
and  revenge;  "he  shall  pay  for  this!" 

"Call  him  an  anaconda,  my  dear  madam.  The  sting 
of  a  viper  is  feeble  in  comparison  with  the  deadly  hug  of 
an  anaconda,"  said  Dibbs  in  a  sympathetic  tone  ;  "and  if 
ay  w 


338  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

I  can  be  of  service  to  you  in  watching  to-day  the  further 
movements  of  the  aforesaid  anaconda,  I  shall  be  pleased 
to  keep  an  eye  on  his  sinuous  performances.  In  return 
for  what  I  have  already  told  you,  I  trust  that  you  will 
keep  secret  the  source  of  your  information.  You  will  not 
betray  me,  I  believe." 

"Indeed  I  won't,  William.  He  shall  never  get  any 
more  secrets  out  of  me.  I'll  fix  him,  though,  you  mark 
my  words  !" 

As  she  left  the  bar-room,  jerking  her  head  high  and 
working  her  fingers  with  convulsive  clutches,  Dibbs 
winked  at  Spike  and  smiled  maliciously  in  the  direction 
of  the  lawyer's  office. 

"  Spike,"  he  muttered,  "  the  lawyer  will  in  vain  plead 
his  own  case  in  a  very  warm  atmosphere  before  night." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
DOYLE  AGAIX  J.V  ALLY. 

words  which  Dibbs  had  spoken  were  a  great  re- 
JL  lief  for  the  moment  to  the  harassed  and  overburdened 
mind  of  Aziel  Loyd.  Scarcely  could  a  respite  to  the 
prisoner  in  his  cell  have  sooner  stayed  his  fears  or  wak 
ened  the  hopes  of  ultimate  escape  from  his  threatening 
doom. 

What,  indeed,  was  she  now,  she  thought  as  she  stood 
loaning  against  the  door  where  Dibbs  had  parted  from 
her,  or  what  had  she  been  these  many  weary  years,  other 
than  a  prisoner  of  hope  ?  With  what  longing  eyes  had 
she  ever  been  looking  from  behind  the  bars  of  her  bitter 
fate  at  jovs  she  knew  could  never  be  her  own,  yet  vaguely 
hoping  for  them  still — joys  that  had  been  hers  in  those 
happy;  fleeting  days  which  memory  ever  treasured  with  a 
remorseless  tenacity  of  recollection  !  Even  now,  despite 
all  other  thoughts,  her  mind  carried  her  back,  with  quiv 
ering  lip  and  glistening  eye,  to  that  time — too  short,  alas  ! 
— when  life  was  perfect  sunshine,  its  breath  the  perfume 


DOYLE  AGAIN  AN  ALLY.  339 

of  rarest  flowers  ;  sweetest,  dearest  days  of  old,  when  love 
sighed  in  joy  and  wept  in  transport. 

Though  her  tears  fell  fast,  she  could  not  forget  the  one 
pleasure  that  had  illumined  the  dark,  silent  way  along 
which  she  had  walked.  No,  no  !  She  could  not  forget 
that  one  remaining  treasure  of  her  mined,  life  buried  so 
deep  a  secret  in  her  deserted  heart.  It  had  shone  all  these 
years  with  an  ever-increasing  lustre  in  tiie  midst  of  her 
fears,  her  sorrows  and  her  remorse.  How  well  Aziel  now 
remembered  that  the  one  only  aim  of  her  life  had  been  to 
guard  this  treasure  from  all  eyes  save  her  own,  to  keep 
this  secret  until  the  grave  should  hide  it  with  her  !  And 
kept  ifshe  had,  though  it  had  cost  her  ceaseless  torturing 
vigilance  by  day  and  by  night,  filling  her  soul  at  times 
with  an  agony  which  was  denied  even  the  relief  of  words 
or  looks  or  tears.  She  had  kept  her  secret,  though  often 
her  bruised  heart  had  cried  aloud  for  her  to  reveal  it.  Pa 
tiently,  faithfully,  jealously,  had  she  guarded  it,  sacredly 
consecrating  her  life  to  this  one  work,  ever  conscious  that 
it  was  the  only  atonement  she  could  make  for  the  past,  if 
atonement  it  could  be.  What  if,  after  all  this  ceaseless 
struggle  of  twenty  years,  she  were  now  to  fail  of  success? 
Suppose  he  who  had  returned  from  the  ocean's  silent  deep 
should  speak  one  word  ?  Oh  what  misery  past  all  com 
prehension  would  come  if  he  whose  death  had  made  her 
secret  safe  in  her  own  keeping  for  all  time  should  reveal 
it  in  some  wild  fit  of  revenge  !  She  shuddered  at  these 
dreadful  thoughts,  made  all  the  more  fearful  by  the  vivid 
recollection  of  his  threatening  words  in  the  woods  that  morn 
ing  they  were  alone  together.  Over  her  sinking  soul  there 
stole  that  nameless  dread  of  him  which  for  seven  years  she 
had  not  known  until  she  saw  him  standing  the  other  night 
in  yonder  door,  with  his  old  evil  look  fastened  upon  her — 
a  look  in  which  she  had  so  often  read  his  threat  to  betray 
that  secret  which  he  knew  she  was  in  silence  nurturing 
with  her  very  heart's  blood. 

It  was  now  that  Dibbs'  words  came  to  Aziel  with  a  won 
derful  power  of  assurance.  In  a  flash  of  reviving  hope 
they  dispelled  the  horrible  nightmare  that  was  so  rapidly 
settling  down  upon  her  soul.  Why  should  she  still  so  fear 
this  man  and  what  he  might  do,  now  that  he  had  just 


340  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

committed  a  crime  that  would  prevent  his  com  in  12;  again 
to  this  town  for  many  a  day?  Yet,  as  she  asked  herself 
this  question  with  a  faint  sigh  of  relief,  the  answer  came, 
bringing  to  her  face  a  doubting,  half-frightened  look.  Ah  ! 
she  knew  for  better  than  did  Dibbs  what  a  daring,  un 
scrupulous  man  was  this  one  with  whom  she  had  to  dral. 
True,  she  had  loved  him  in  those  other  days,  but  always 
with  a  dread  as  strong  upon  her  as  her  passionate  affection. 
Afraid  to  come  here  again?  Xot  he,  if  by  coming  he 
could  further  any  wicked  plan,  though  he  ware  certain 
the  officers  of  the  law  were  dogging  his  verv  footsteps. 
Xo,  she  ought  not  trust  for  safety  to  so  slim  a  hope  as  his 
fear  of  capture.  Rather  should  she  act — act  on  the  sup 
position  that  he  would  return,  this  very  night,  perhaps, 
under  the  shelter  of  darkness.  And  if  he  should  come? 
This  thought  startled  her,  bringing  back  to  her  face  the 
white,  limited  look  of  old,  when  even  his  footsteps  had 
been  to  her  the  signal  of  danger.  If  he  should  come  to 
night  or  to-morrow  night,  or  any  night,  and  speak  those 
words  which  would  make  her  more  of  an  outcast  in  the 
world  than  she  even  now  felt  herself  to  be!  Well — she 
smiled  a  little  bitter,  defiant  smile — she  could  bear  it.  It 
would  be  only  one  more  burden  laid  upon  her  heart,  that 
had  long  since  learned  its  life-lesson  of  patient  endurance. 
But  Volney — he  whose  heart  had  never  known  a  sorrow  ? 
Oh,  never,  never  upon  him  must  fall  the  deadly  blight 
of  such  a  revelation  !  But  what  should  she  do?  How 
could  she  avert  so  terrible  a  calamity?  Should  the  man 
return  this  night,  he  would  face  his  son,  and  Heaven  onlv 
knew  what  angry  scene  between  them  might  not  disclose 
her  secret.  But  Volney  must  not  see  him.  Xo,  uo ! 
They  shall  never  meet  if  she  can  help  it.  And  Volney? 
He  must  not  this  day  have  the  slightest  suspicion  of 
his  father's  return  excited  by  any  hint  as  to  the  recent 
mysterious  visit.  Yes,  against  both  such  probabilities 
must  she  immediately  guard  with  all  the  power  of 
scheming  she  could  summon  to  her  aid.  Her  Volney 
in  danger — his  happiness  threatened  for  life!  Her 
boy,  for  whom  she  had  suffered  in  secret  as  God  and 
her  own  heart  only  knew !  Her  boy,  whose  first  in 
fant  smile  had  been  upon  her  breast — whose  merry 


DOYLE  AGAIN  AN  ALLY.  341 

laugh  and  joyous  shout  of  childhood  her  ears  had  been 
the  first  to  catch,  and  upon  whose  opening  manhood  she 
was  now  doting  with  hopes  so  fond  and  prayers  so  fer 
vent  !  These  thoughts,  so  suggestive  of  an  evil  she 
would  have  given  her  life  to  avert,  startled  her  into 
instant  action.  She  caught  up  her  hood,  and  pulling  it 
down  over  her  face  to  conceal  her  agitated  features  ran 
to  the  barn  in  search  of  Doyle.  She  knew  how  invalu 
able  his  aid  would  be  in  furthering  the  plan  her  active 
mind  had  already  conceived.  For  now,  as  it  had  ever 
been  in  all  these  years  when  her  secret  was  in  peril, 
she  did  not  fail  in  immediately  resolving  upon  some 
expedient  of  safety  that  promised  well. 

Suppressing  all  evidence  of  her  emotion,  she  quietly 
entered  the  door  of  the  barn.  She  stopped  near  the 
threshold,  for  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  with  his  back 
to  her,  knelt  Doyle,  talking  rapidly  and  excitedly  to  him 
self.  Before  him  was  a  large  open  chest,  into  which  he 
was  peering  with  loud  exclamations  of  curiosity  and  ad 
miration. 

"Shure,  it's  a  dhry-goods  sthore  in  a  box,"  he  was  say 
ing  as  he  cautiously  took  up  each  article  for  closer  inspec 
tion.  "  'Pon  me  sowl,  thim  dhresscs  are  fit  for  a  queen, 
so  they  are!  Oh.  look  at  the  quality  o'  thim!  Silk  an' 
satin,  be  jabers !  Well,  well,  well !  Who  would  a-thought 
the  owld  faggot  had  these  illigant  clothes  in  his  hut,  wid 
the  poor  colleen  dhressed  loike  a  beggar,  bad  'cess  to  him  ! 
Oh,  be'dad,  here's  a  weddin'-veil  an'  the  orange-flowers!" 
holding  them  up  to  view.  "  Widout  the  thrifle  o'a  smell, 
troth,  these  flowers  are  loike  me  grandmother's  night-cap. 
Well,  well,  it's  bothered  I  am  entirely  wid  the  sight.  Wor 
it  not  for  me  own  hands  feelin'  the  same,  I'd  take  me  oath 
a  leprechaun  wor  playin'  decipshun  wid  me  eyes.  Throth, 
it's  moighty  queer,  so  it  is !  Blur  an'  agers !"  he  ex 
claimed  excitedly  as  he  gave  himself  a  quick  thrust  in  the 
ribs  after  a  moment's  silent  scratching  of  his  head;  "I 
have  it  now  thicker  than  the  measles  down  at  O'Hara's. 
'Pon  me  sowl,  it's  an  heiress  the  colleen  is,  an'  these  be 
her  rightful  clothes.  Oh,  bathershin  !  Patrick  Doyle,  ye 
wor  dumb  not  to  say  that  afore!  Av  coorse  yer  right,  Mr. 
Doyle,  for  wance  in  yer  life ;  an'  it's  plain  as  a  pike-staff 

29* 


342  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

now  why  the  owkl  skinflint  r;m  away  from  the  colleen  wkl 
that  sthrange  man  she  was  tellin'  us  of  last  noight.  Shure, 
the  man  wor  her  fatlier,  an'  it's  the  owld  sthrap  the  miser 
that  helped  him  stale  the  fortune  o'  the  poor  colleen,  an' 
it's  gone  off  togither  they  are  to  injoy  it,  the  murtherin' 
vaga  bones!" 

"So  that  is  your  conclusion,  is  it?  And  a  very  good 
one  it  is,"  spoke  Aziel,  with  a  little  preliminary  cough,  as 
she  came  around  in  front  of  Doyle. 

"Oh,  blur  an'  agers !"  he  exclaimed,  springing  to  his 
feet  with  a  cry  of  genuine  alarm  and  putting  out  his  arms 
with  a  shielding  motion  ;  "  I  thought  YOU  wor  a  lepre 
chaun  !"  Then,  as  he  recognized  her,  lie  drew  a  long 
breath  of  relief,  and  said,  with  a  sly  look  at  the  still  open 
chest,  "  It  wor  gratifyin'  me  curiosity  I  wor,  lookin'  at 
thim  illigant  dhresses.  Throth,  it's  an  heiress  the  poor 
colleen  is,  wid  thim  foine  clothes."  , 

"  Where  did  you  get  these?"  asked  the  woman,  looking 
into  the  chest  with  an  amazed  expression  that  was  greatly 
relished  by  her  companion.  "  Did  you  find  this  chest  in 
Grundle's  cottage?" 

"The  silf-same;  an'  there  wor  two  trunks  besides,  for- 
ninst  ye  there,  wid  a  lot  o'  men's  clothes  in  thim,"  pointing 
to  the  pile  of  dilapidated  furniture,  beneath  which  a  couple 
of  old  hair-covered  trunks  were  half  buried. 

"  I  am  not  so  very  much  surprised  at  this  discovery," 
said  Aziel,  speaking  to  herself  apparently,  as  she  briefly 
examined  the  contents  of  the  chest.  "It  only  confirms 
my  suspicions  as  to  the  mystery  which  has  shrouded  her 
life.  These  goods,  though  fresh  in  material,  are  very  old  in 
stvle,  showing  that  the  girl  was  in  some  way  connected  a 
long  time  ago  with  a  family  of  station  and  fortune — " 

"  Bedad,  I  wor  savin'  that  same !"  interrupted  Pat  with 
an  emphatic  shake  of  his  head.  "Faix,  it's  me  book-oath 
I  could  take  that  thim  two  divil's  limbs,  the  owld  miser 
an'  the  black-whiskered  vagabone,  have  run  away  wid  her 
fortune.  Oh,  the  dhirty  thaves !  It's  dead  as  small  beer 
an'  stiff  as  a  crutch  I  hope  they  both  be  this  blissid 
minit !" 

"  Pat,"  said  Aziel  after  a  moment's  silence,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  chest  and  her  face  turned  slightly  away,  "  if  Master 


DOYLE  AGAIN  AN  ALLY.  343 

Volney  should  ask  you  about  that  strange  man,  I  wish 
you  would  somehow  be  unable  to  describe  him.  It  is  best 
tiiat  Master  Volney  should  not  know  anything  about  that 
man  in  any  way  whatever"  emphasizing  the  words  with  a 
significant  glance.  "Tne  girl  has  already  forgotten  how 
the  man  looked.  You  can  forget  him  too,  I  am  sure, 
when  I  tell  you,"  her  voice  vibrating  with  an  emotion 
she  could  not  conceal,  "that  if  you  do  so  you  will  be 
doing  both  me  and  Master  Volney  the  greatest  service 
you  could  render  us  this  side  of  the  grave." 

"  Is  it  to  sarve  ye  an'  him  ye  be  askin'  me,  Misthress 
Loyd,  wid  that  sweet  voice  o'  yours  so  sad  ?  Oh,  shure, 
it's  meself  that  would  go  through  fire  an'  wather  to  sarve 
ye  both.  It's  iver  remirnberin'  I  am  the  kind  words  ye 
both  spoke  to  me  so  often  whin  me  own  heart  wor  lonely 
in  a  sthrange  land.  Throth,"  dashing  the  tears  from  his 
eyes,  "  it  wor  mother  an'  sister,  an'  father  an'  brother,  ye 
wor  to  me  thin,  whin  me  sowl  wor  brakin'  fur  the  sound 
o'  a  frindly  voice,  an'  me  hand  trimbled  fur  the  tindher 
touch  o'  kindness." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  it  well — the  morning  you  came  here 
directly  from  the  ship  with  your  little  bundle  and  black 
thorn  stick.  You  were  very  homesick.  The  tears  glis 
tened  in  your  eyes  then  as  they  do  now.  Master  Volney 
and  I  saw  how  much  you  needed  sympathy  and  kindness. 
We  gave  them  freely  to  you,  but  not  one  whit  more  freely 
than  I  know  you  will  now  give  them  to  us  !" 

"  Indade,  it's  God's  own  thruth  ye  be  spakin'  about 
me  now.  An'  it's  listenin'  wid  me  two  opin  ears  I  am 
fur  ye  to  give  me  the  warnin'  wurd  that's  to  sarve  ye 
both." 

"  If  Master  Volney,"  resumed  Aziel  with  a  grateful 
smile  as  she  laid  her  hand  with  a  confiding  gesture  on 
the  Irishman's  arm,  "should  ask  you  about  this  strange 
man,  you  will  be  sure  not  to  know  anything  concerning 
him  in  any  way — about  his  having  been  either  here  or  at 
the  miser's  cottage.  You  understand  ?" 

"  Understhand,  is  it  ?"  he  returned  with  a  gleam  of  na 
tive  intelligence  in  his  eyes.  "  Shure,  yer  manin'  is  plain  as 
the  sun  above  me  head.  Know  him,  would  I  ?  An'  how 
would  I  know  him  ?  Faix,"  he  continued  with  an  odd 


344  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

grin,  drawing  his  sleeve  across  a  face  brimful  of  mischief, 
"lave  me  alone  fur  a  bad  mimory,  Misthress  Loyd.  It'^ 
an  inderstherous  mind  I  have  fur  furgittin'  things. 
Howld  me  now  !  Wor  it  the  tin-peddler  ye  wor  tell- 
in'  me  to  forgit  the  looks  o',  thin?"  he  asked  with  a 
grotesque  wink;  "  fur,  by  the  token  o'  me  slapin'  con 
science,  he  be  the  only  man  I've  clapped  me  two  eyes  on 
this  week  past.  Indade,  it's  moighty  lonely  I've  bin, 
scein'  none  o'  me  own  sex  hereabouts  save  Dennis  O'Hara. 
God  kape  him  safely,  say  I,  till  I  git  the  marriage-promise 
from  him,  and  he's  not  givin'  it  to  me  so  aisy  as  he 
moight,  lon.g  life  to  him  !'' 

"  I  see  you  understand  me,"  said  Aziel,  turning  to  go 
and  fixing  her  earnest  eyes  on  him  with  a  look  of  speech 
less  gratitude.  "  Oh,  there  is  one  thing  more  you  could 
do  to  serve  me :  you  could  help  me  persuade  Master 
Volney  to  go  away  with  the  girl  immediately  in  search 
of  this  old  man  she  thinks  is  her  father.  Will  you  do 
this  without  my  telling  you  why  I  wish  it  ?" 

"Throth,  I'm  not  a  tiliscope,  to  be  pryin'  into  the  say- 
crets  o'  yer  heart,  Misthress  Loyd.  Shnre,  it's  doin'  any 
thing  fur  ye  I'd  be.  Be  jabers,  it's  blind  as  a  bat  an' 
deaf  as  a  post  I  am  entirely.  Lave  me  alone  fur  the  goos- 
therumfoodle  that  will  plaze  ye  moightily,  Misthress 
Loyd,  an'  it's  sly  as  a  fox  I'll  be  wid  it  all." 

She  pressed  his  hand  warmly  and  hurried  back  to  the 
house,  confident  that  her  plan  was  sure  of  success  so  far 
as  Doyle  was  concerned. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

EXPLANATIONS  FOR  A  PURPOSE. 

WHEX  Aziel  entered  the  kitchen  with  a  gleam  of 
hope  obscuring  for  the  moment  the  habitual  anxiety 
of  her  face,  she  found  Volney  sitting  impatiently  in  his 
old  place  by  the  window.  She  had  seen  him  thus  many 
times  before  in  his  boyhood  days.  He  was  swaying  him 
self  to  and  fro  in  his  chair  with  a  restless  motion.  His 


EXPLANATIONS  FOR  A   PURPOSE.  345 

face  alternately  flashed  and  sneered  with  looks  of  anger 
and  derision,  while  his  pent-up  feelings,  finding  no  ade 
quate  expression  in  words,  vented  themselves  in  the  violent 
drumming  of  his  fingers  upon  the  window-ledge. 

"  Here  I  am,  you  see,  in  my  usual  place  of  refuge,"  he 
exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  suppressed  feeling  as  he  glanced  up 
at  her  questioning  face,  over  which  a  white  rift  of  alarm 
was  spreading.  "  You  need  not  look  so  frightened.  It's 
only  the  same  old  story;  mother  and  I  have  been  quar 
reling." 

"Quarreling?  No,  not  quarreling  so  soon  after  your 
return,  I  am  sure,"  said  Aziel  in  that  soothing  tone  of 
other  days  he  remembered  so  well.  She  threw  aside  her 
hood,  came  closer  to  him,  and  laying  her  hand  gently  upon 
his  'shoulder  continued  :  "  But  try  to  calm  yourself,  Vol- 
ney,  and  tell  me  what  has  happened.  Let  your  old  nurse 
help  you  to  bear  the  trouble.  It  may  become  lighter  if 
you  share  it  with  her." 

"  Aziel,"  he  said  with  resti^ained  energy,  and  with  such 
a  fierce  gleam  in  his  eyes  that  her  face  grew  whiter,  "  do 
you  remember  how  once,  when  I  was  a  boy,  you  saw  me 
rush  wildly  into  the  kitchen  of  our  old  house  and  seize  a 
knife  from  your  very  hand  ?  You  asked  me  what  I  wanted 
to  do  with  it,  and  I  told  you  I  was  going  to  kill  my  father. 
He  had  wantonly  struck  me,  and  I  sought  to  revenge  my 
self  upon  him.  Do  you  remember  that  morning?  You 
caught  me  in  your  arms  with  a  cry  that  still  rings  in  my 
ears,  and  held  me  fast,  kissing  and  caressing  me.  You 
talked  so  soothingly  to  me  that  I  at  last  sobbed  my  anger 
away,  and  fell  asleep  in  your  lap  from  the  sheer  exhaustion 
of  my  passion." 

u  I  remember,"  she  gasped  in  a  whisper,  while  a  look 
of  horror  stole  over  her,  and  her  hand,  that  rested  on  his 
shoulder,  trembled  violently.  "  But  that  was  only  a  freak 
of  boyish  passion,"  she  went  on,  trying  to  steady  her  voice. 
"  You  did  not  mean  it," 

"  Yes,  I  did  mean  it,"  he  rejoined,  positively — "  meant 
it  just  as  much  " — with  a  shudder  in  his  lowered  voice — 
"  as  I  had  a  mind  a  few  moments  ago  to  strike  my  mother. 
Do  not  draw  away  from  me  so,"  noticing  how  she  had 
slightly  recoiled  from  him  at  these  words.  "  Frenzied 


346  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

Avith  anger  though  I  was,  Heaven  saved  me  from  sueli  a 
crime.  I  do  not  know  how  I  controlled  myself.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  I  could  hear  the  spirit  of  my  dead  father  whis 
pering  to  me  to  strike  her;  and  never  in  all  my  life — 
though  many  times,  as  you  know,  I  have  been  terribly 
angry  with  her — was  I  so  impelled  to  do  her  bodily  harm. 
If  it  had  been  my  father  standing  there,  I  know  I  could 
not  have  restrained  mvself.  Oh  how  awful  that  a  sou,  no 
matter  for  what  reason,  should  have  at  times  such  mur 
derous  feelings — they  deserve  no  better  name — against  his 
parents!  I  cannot,  cannot  understand  it;"  and  his  voice 
died  away  in  a  groan. 

"What  Avas  it  your  mother  said  to  you?"  asked  Aziel, 
forc:ng  herself  to  speak  calmly,  though  her  voice  was 
husky  and  tremulous. 

She  had  now  drawn  more  closely  to  him,  her  hand  again 
laid  caressingly  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  She  taunted  me  with  my  love  for  Emily — called  her  a 
beggar's  brat !"  Volney  replied,  his  tones  again  SAvelling 
Avith  passion.  "  But  this  Avas  not  all,  or  I  could  have 
borne  it  better,  hard  though  it  was  to  hear  the  girl  I  so 
dearly  loved  scorned  and  defamed  by  my  own  mother. 
Yes,  I  could  have  borne  that.  When  my  mother  took 
advantage  of  that  innocent  girl's  affection  for  me,  and  this 
very  morning  tried  to  get  her  to  promise  not  to  marry  me 
on  the  plea  that  it  would  be  for  my  happiness,  oh,  Aziel, 
can  you  wonder  that  I  resented  so  angrily  such  a  cruel, 
cruel  act?" 

"  How  do  you  know  your  mother  did  this  ?"  the  woman 
asked  with  a  half-incredulous  look.  "She  certainly  had 
no  opportunity  to  do  so  last  night,  and  it  was.  only  a  few 
moments  before  you  came  that  I  left  Emily  alone  and 
your  mother  still  asleep  in  her  own  room." 

'"Emily  told  me  the  whole  conversation  with  her  own 
lips,  the  poor,  innocent  child  !  Mother  found  ample  time, 
ai'ter  you  had  left  Emily,  to  creep  into  her  room  and  try 
her  wicked  scheme  on  that  trusting,  loving  creature." 

"  Well,"  said  Aziel  after  a  slight  pause,  during  which 
her  hand  lightly  stroked  his  head  with  a  seemingly-uncon 
scious  motion,  "  I  am  sure  she  did  not  succeed.  Certainly, 
Emily  made  her  no  such  silly  promise.  I  can  see  how 


EXPLANATIONS  FOE  A   PURPOSE.  347 

the  dear  girl  loves  you.  Nothing  hut  death  can  ever 
separate  her  from  you.  Ah  !  she  knows,  and  I  know, 
that  you  will  always  prove  worthy  of  her." 

"  Dear,  good  Aziel  !"  he  said  with  something  of  his  old 
enthusiasm  as  he  took  her  hand  in  his  fervent  grasp; 
"you  always  did  know  how  to  calm  my  passions  and 
soothe  every  angry  thought.  Yes,  it  is  as  you  say. 
Emily  not  only  loves  me,  but  she  would  marry  me  now, 
I  believe,  were  I  to  ask  her,  despite  mother's  crafty 
counsels." 

"  Why  should  you  not  marry  her  whenever  you  choose?" 
replied  Aziel  with  an  encouraging  smile.  "  I  am  sure  you 
will  soon -be  able  to  support  her,  and  until  then  I  can  help 
you  keep  want  at  least  from  your  cupboard.  Besides, 
loving  each  other  so  dearly  as  you  do,  you  will  live 
happily,  no  matter  how  humble  your  home  may  be." 

"  Ah  !  those  words  are  such  as  my  mother  should  have 
spoken  to  me,"  he  said,  sadly,  after  many  expressions  of 
gratitude.  "  But  it  was  always  so.  She  was  my  mother 
only  in  naaie,  while  in  you,  dear  Aziel,  I  have  ever  found 
the  fond  devotion  a  mother  should  have  given  me." 

She  was  weeping  softly,  leaning  over  him  with  a 
yearning  look  of  tenderness  such  as  he  remembered  had 
so  often  lulled  him  to  sleep  and  greeted  the  first  wakening 
of  his  childhood  slumbers.  And  while  he  was  returning 
her  gaze  with  a  thankful,  loving  expression,  she  quickly 
put  out  her  arms,  threw  them  around  his  neck  and  burst 
into  a  flood  of  tears.  But  only  for  a  moment.  The  next 
instant  she  had  released  him  with  a  little  hysterical  laugh, 
and  exclaimed,  as  she  wiped  away  the  tears  from  her 
happy  face, 

"I  forgot,  Volney,  that  you  were  a  man.  I  thought, 
just  for  a  second,  you  were  my  little  boy  again." 

"  If  to  be  a  little  boy,"  he  gayly  rejoined,  "  is  to  retain 
your  love,  Aziel,  consider  me  your  little  boy  for  life." 

He  arose  and  put  his  arms  around  her  with  a  soft  kiss 
such  as  he  recollected  she  had  often  begged  him  to  give 
her  when  he  was  a  child  and  they  had  played  alone  in  the 
orchard  of  the  old  farm-house. 

"Now,  my  dear  old  nurse,"  affectionately  patting  her 
shoulder,  "I  must  hurry  away  to  the  village  in  search  of 


348  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

information.  If  I  should  find  any  trace  of  the  old  man, 
I  shall  immediately  take  Emily  with  me  and  go  in  search 
of  him.  I  hope  we  can  leave  this  very  night,  for  this 
house  is  no  place  for  Emily,  with  mother  here.  Xo  cote-," 
liis  brows  lowering  a  trifle,  "  that  has  a  serpent  in  it  is 
safe  for  a  dove.  Besides,  old  Gagger  may  return  any 
hour,  and  I  would  sooner  have  Emily  in  the  Old  Boy's 
company  than  in  his.  But  tell  me  before  I  go,  Aziel, 
who  you  think  this  strange  man  is  that  Emily  says  has 
been  visiting  her  father  secretly  of  late,  and  was  with  him 
last  night  when  he  so  mysteriously  disappeared." 

"  What  man  ?"  asked  Aziel  with  a  look  of  feigned  sur 
prise.  "  Oh  yes  ;  now  I  remember,"  gazing  steadily  at 
the  floor,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  revive  her  recollection. 
"  Emily  did  say  something  about  a  strange  man  that  came 
to  her  father's  house  last  night,  but  her  description  of 
him  was  so  slight — for  she  never  saw  him  but  once,  and 
then  only  with  a  mere  glance — that  I  did  not  pay  much 
attention  to  the  matter.  I  have  my  suspicions,  though, 
that  this  man  may  be  her  real  father,  with  whom  Grundle 
has  been  in  some  way  in  league  to  keep  Emily  hidden 
away  in  order  that  they  two  might  possess  themselves  of 
her  fortune.  Perhaps  the  opportunity  for  which  they 
have  been  so  long  waiting  has  now  arrived,  and  thev  have 
gone  away  together  to  complete  their  scheme,  of  which 
this  sudden  desertion  of  Emily  forms  an  important  part. 
Such  things  have  happened." 

"The  scoundrels  !"  muttered  the  young  man.  "I  wish 
I  could  once  lay  mv  hands  upon  them  !  If  they  should 
only  come  within  my  grasp!  Xo  better  pleasure  would  I 
covet  than  that  of  being  even  with  them.  Strange,"  he  went 
on,  slowly  pacing  the  floor,  "that  Emily  cannot  remember 
how  that  stranger  looked.  What  an  innocent  child  she  is  ! 
All  faces  must  be  alike  to  her.  Ha,  ha  !"  with  a  little  laugh  ; 
"  now,  whom  do  you  suppose  she  said  this  man  resembled 
when  I  was  trying  to  help  her  recall  his  features  ?" 

"I  am  sure  1  cannot  tell,"  answered  his  companion, 
turning  slowly  to  the  table  and  resuming  her  final  prep 
arations  for  breakfast. 

"  Why — would  yon  believe  it? — Emily  said  the  strange 
man  looked  like  me  !  Had  it  not  been  for  the  fear  of 


EXPLANATIONS  FOR  A  PURPOSE.  349 

hurting  her  feelings,  I  should  have  laughed  in  her  frank 
little  face." 

The  loaf  of  bread  which  the  woman  was  cutting  fell 
from  her  grasp  and  rolled  across  the  floor.  The  hand 
that  held  the  knife  let  it  drop  upon  the  table  with  a  con 
vulsive  motion.  How  loudly  beat  Aziel's  betraying  heart ! 
How  suddenly  dizzy  became  her  head  ! 

It  was  merely  for  an  instant  she  lost  her  self-possession. 
She  sprang  after  the  loaf  with  a  little  cry  of  seeming  vex 
ation,  and  hastened  back  to  the  table,  her  face,  white  with 
apprehension,  turned  away  from  him  lest  he  should  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  terrible  secret  she  felt  was  proclaiming 
itself  in  every  feature. 

"  I  am  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  breakfast,"  she  said,  her 
back  to  him  and  forcing  something  of  a  laugh  into  her 
hollow  voice,  "that  I  am  making  more  haste  than  speed. 
I  never  could  cut  a  round  loaf  without  letting  it  slip. 
Come  !  Everything  is  ready  now.  I  will  give  you  your 
breakfast  first,  so  that  you  can  hurry  away  to  Grundle's 
cottage,  and  then  to  the  village.  You  ought  to  lose  no 
more  valuable  time  in  finding  out  all  you  can  about  last 
night's  mystery." 

"  You  are  right,"  Volney  answered,  catching  up  his  hat 
and  turning  toward  the  door.  "  I,  of  all  others,  should 
be  foremost  in  these  investigations.  I  will  take  my  dear 
stepfather's  horse  and  wagon,  and  drive  fast  enough  and 
far  enough  to  find  out  something  before  my  return. 
Meanwhile,  I  leave  Emily  in  your  charge.  See  that 
mother  has  no  private  conversation  with  her.  As  to 
breakfast,  I  do  not  want  any.  I  ate  sufficient  on  the 
cars  this  morning.  Give  my  share  to  Emily." 

With  a  quick  parting  wave  of  his  hand  he  darted  out 
of  the  door  and  ran  to  the  barn. 

"Here,  Pat!"  he  cried  as  that  individual  emerged  from 
behind  the  pile  of  furniture,  which  he  was  critically  exam 
ining  with  longing  eyes;  "don't  waste  any  more  of  your 
time  in  valuing  those  traps.  They  are  only  fit  for  kindling- 
wood.  Come,  hurry!  I  want  the  horse  and  wagon  in  less 
time  than  you  can  say  your  prayers." 

"  Throth,  Masther  Volney,  it's  savin'  me  prayers  very 
fast  I  can  be  on  a  cowld  night  wid  a  warm  bed  forniust  me. 

30 


350  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

So  it's  traps,  is  it,  ye  still  be  callin'  this  illigant  furni- 
chure?  Well,  well,  well!  If  meself  an'  the  colleen  be- 
yant  at  O'Hara's  had  the  half  o'  thini,  it's  marryin'  to 
morrow  we'd  be,  to  be  shure.  Wirra,  wirra !"  he  ejaculated, 
slowly  withdrawing  his  gaze  from  the  coveted  objects; 
"it's  losin'  the  bist  half  o'  life  I  am  waitin'  for  the  loikes 
o'  these  things,  bad  'cess  to  me  poverty!  Ah!  'tis  the 
poverty  that  causes  half  the  troubles  of  life." 

"  If  Mr.  Grundle  does  not  come  back  to  claim  his  prop 
erty,  you  can  have  the  whole  of  it,"  said  Volney  with  an 
indifferent  nod  at  the  motley  arrav. 

"Oh,  shure,  it's  jokin'  wid  me  desires  ye  be,  Masther 
Volney!"  exclaimed  the  Irishman,  quickly  turning  a 
comical  doubting  look  upon  him.  "Throth,  if  I  wor 
shure  ye  wor  not  humbuggin'  me,  it's  callin'  down  on  ye 
the  blissin'  o'  Heaven  I'd  be  doin'  this  very  minit." 

"  Well,  go  on  and  call  down  the  best  blessing  you  can, 
for  I  was  never  more  in  earnest.  I  promise  you  that  if 
Grundle  does  not  come  back  to  take  possession  of  these 
things  they  shall  become  your  property.  Now,  don't  stop 
to  thank  me,"  as  the  Irishman  began  to  give  vent  to  loud 
exclamations  of  gratitude,  "  but  just  show  your  thankful 
ness  by  harnessing  the  horse  as  fast  as  you  can." 

"Blur  an'  agers!"  cried  Pat,  rushing  into  the  stall  and 
bringing  the  animal  out  with  a  jerk  that  made  him  snort 
and  rear;  "it's  hum-in'  I'll  be  doin'  fasther  nor  a  man  wid 
two  bumble-bees  in  his  shoes.  Oil,  it's  light  me  he:irt  is 

9  O 

now,  wid  that  joyous  promise  ye  made  me.  Throth,  yer 
•words  raise  the  cockles  o'  me  heart  loike  a  moighty  dhram 
o'  the  rale  crathur. — Hould  there,  ye  baste!'7  as  the  horse 
protested  against  this  unusual  haste  by  sundry  snaps  at 
Patrick's  head  as  he  was  darting  around  and  under  him. 
"  Where's  the  sinse  o'  ye  takin'  me  head  for  a  bundle  o' 
hay?  Troth,  can't  ye  see  the  masther's  in  great  haste? 
Here,  ye  omadhaun  !  git  over  there  while  I  clap  the  wagon 
behind  ye.  Tare  alive,  ye  are  as  stiff  in  the  legs  this 
morn  in'  as  a  miser's  list,  so  ye  are,  ye  vajrabone! — There, 
Masther  Yolney  !"  putting  the  reins  in  the  young  man's 
hand,  while  the  perspiration  streamed  down  his  o-.vn  ex 
cited  lace.  "  Wasn't  it  quick  I  wor  doin'  the  job?  Be- 
dad,  it's  not  faster  I  could  work  wor  I  goin'  to  clhrive  to 


EXPLANATIONS  FOR  A   PURPOSE.  351 

me  own  weddin'  this  blissid  clay  wid  that  comely  lump  o' 
a  girl  waitin'  for  me  in  the  church  beyant." 

"  Let  us  hope  her  wedding-day  will  soon  come,"  said 
Volney,  jumping  into  the  wagon  and  seating  himself, 
"and  I  am  sure  it  will,  if  the  possession  of  that  heap  of 
furniture  can  hasten  it.  Indeed,  you  can  consider  yourself 
the  owner  of  those  goods  now.  For — mark  my  word,  Pat 
— the  miser  will  never  be  seen  again  in  these  parts." 

"  May  kind  Heaven  keep  him  miles  out  o'  this !"  ejac 
ulated  the  Irishman  with  a  momentary  upward  look  of  his 
serious  face  as  the  wagon  slowly  moved  away.  "  It's  not 
wishin'  harrum  to  iny  o'  God's  own  crathurs  I'd  be  doin', 
but,  Jpon-  me  sowl,  it's  nivir  havin'  sore  eyes  I'd  be,  gazin' 
after  owld  Gruntle.  It's  not  dead  I'd  be  wantin'  him,  but 
long*  and  hearty,  shure,  would  I  dhrink  at  his  wake  to- 
morry." 

"  Oh,  here,  Pat !"  called  Volney,  halting  as  the  vehicle 
reached  the  threshold  of  the  wide  door,  and  turning  to  the 
Irishman,  who  was  standing  with  his  gaze  again  riveted 
upon  the  furniture.  "  I  forgot  to  ask  you  if  you  have 
seen  anything  of  a  strange  man  around  here  since  I  have 
been  gone.  The  young  lady — Emily — says  there  has 
been  a  mysterious  man  coming  to  her  father's  cottage  of 
late,  and  that  she  is  sure  he  was  there  last  night.  Have 
you  heard  of  or  seen  any  such  person  ?" 

"  A  strange  man  is  it,  do  ye  say?"  his  eyes  growing  un 
usually  large  and  his  mouth  widely  distended  with  well- 
assumed  wonder.  "  Is  it  a  leprechaun  the  colleen  is 
talk  in'  about  now?  Whist!"  suddenly  dropping  his 
voice,  shaking  his  finger  in  token  of  silence,  and  draw 
ing  on  tip-toe  nearer  his  companion,  "where  wor  it  she 
saw  him?  Och,  faix,  if  I  could  cum  a  crass  him,  it's 
a  big  crockful  of  goold  afore  dusk  I'd  git  from  him, 
shore !" 

"What's  a  leprechaun?"  asked  Volney,  laughing,  in 
spite  of  the  man's  serious  face. 

"  itlusha  avic!  Did  ye  niver  hear  o'  the  inchanted 
cobbler?"  exclaimed  Pat  under  his  breath.  "Troth,  he's 
the  fairy  that  would  give  ye  piles  o'  goold  fur  a  ransom  if 
ye  once  lay  yer  tight  grip  on  him.  Sphake  softly  now. 
He  may  be  forninst  ,us  hereabouts,"  glancing  cautiously 


352  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

around  the  barn.  "Oh,  bad  'cess  to  me  luck!  if  I  could 
only  clap  me  two  eyes  on  him  now,  wid  his  red  coat,  and 
breeches  all  covered  wid  goold  lace,  an'  his  little  cocked 
hat!  Whist!  be  aisy  now!  It's  findin' him  I  maybe 
this  very  minnit." 

He  began  to  steal  softly  around  the  barn-floor,  his 
finger  on  his  lips,  peeping  into  the  stalls  and  under 
boxes  and  barrels  and  the  various  farming-implements. 

"  Well,  it's  evident  yon  can  give  me  no  information,  so 
go  on  hunting  your  leprechaun.  Maybe  he  will  make 
you  a  prince  of  his  realm  before  I  return,"  said  the  young 
man,  driving  away  and  leaving  the  Irishman  still  busily 
engaged  in  his  search. 

When  the  vehicle  had  disappeared  down  the  lane, 
Doyle,  who  had  been  watching  it  over  his  shoulder 
burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laughter. 

"Oh,  Patrick,  ye  divil  ye!"  he  exclaimed,  seating  him 
self  on.  the  chest  and  poking  himself  in  the  ribs  as  the 
tears  streamed  from  his  eyes.  "  Slmre,  it's  desaivin'  the 
father  o'  lies  ye  could  be  doin'  this  mornin'.  Indade,  it's 
the  jewil  o'  a  boy  for  thricks  I  am  !  Oh  my  !  oh  my  ! 
What  a  nate  humbuggin'  I  gave  Mashter  Volney,  shure, 
wid  talkin'  o'  the  leprechaun,  whin  divil  a  fairy  at  all,  at 
all — God  bliss  thim  ! — have  I  seen  in  all  my  life  !  Och, 
wirrasthru  !"  suddenly  checking  his  merriment  and  throw 
ing  up  his  hands  in  disgust;  "  where,  faix,  is  the  memory 
o'  me?  Shure,  I  forgot  to  till  him  to  hurry  off  wid  his 
colleen  this  very  day  !  Oh,  Patrick,  ye  are  a  born  nat'ral 
to  forgit  the  same,  whin  Misthress  Loyd  laid  sich  sthrc-ss 
on  it.  Troth,  it's  lost  a  foine  breakfast  ye  have,  whin  ye 
till  her  what  an  omadhaun  ye  wor.  And,  be  jabers,  it's 
me  ears  that's  achin'  now  fur  the  sound  o'  the  atin'-bell  ! 
Well,  well,  well !  Since  me  mimorv — bad  'cess  to  it!  has 
robbed  me  sthomach,  it's  feastin'  me  eyes  in  the  mane 
time  I'll  be  doin'  on  this  foine  furnichure.  Ah,  me  col 
leen  dims!"  he  exclaimed,  his  gaze  fastened  on  the  pile 
with  an  anxious,  greedy  look;  "pray  wid  all  yer  moight, 
that  owld  Gruntle  may  niver  lay  his  miserly  eyes  on  these 
same  agin.  For  wid  these  same  illigant  things,  our  wed- 
din'-day's  nigh  at  hand  as  winter  itself.  An'  it's  me  own 
heart  now  that  feels  loike  a  lump  o'  shugar  in  me  throat, 


DEVELOPMENTS.  353 

fur  tliinkin'  o'  that  happy   day      Och  hone !  it's  meltin' 
into  wather  me  eyes  are  intirely !" 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

DE  VEL  OPMENTS. 

WHEN  Volney  reached  Nicholas  Grundle's  hut,  he 
found  a  large  and  excited  crowd  of  villagers  assem 
bled.  Me"n  and  boys,  and  here  and  there  a  female,  all 
loudly  talking,  were  roaming  through  the  house,  peeping 
into  the  windows,  exploring  the  barn  and  searching  with 
curio'us  eyes  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  garden,  save 
that  spot  from  which  the  grave  kept  them  at  a  cautious 
distance.  Volney  alighted  from  the  wagon  and  walked 
slowly  up  the  path.  The  tumult  of  voices  suddenly 
ceased,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  on  him.  Significant  nods 
and  suppressed  exclamations,  as  the  people  gathered  in 
groups,  told  him  that  his  movements  were  now  the  sole 
object  of  their  curiosity. 

With  a  glance  of  recognition  and  a  word  of  greeting  to 
the  friendly  faces  that  peered  at  him  from  all  sides,  he 
entered  the  house.  The  first  person  that  spoke  to  him 
Mas  Rader  Craft,  who  was  standing  just  within  the  thresh 
old,  holding  in  his  hand  his  note-book,  in  which,  with  a 
solemn  face,  he  was  slowly  writing. 

"Ah  !  good-morning,  my  young  friend  !"  said  the  law 
yer  with  a  benevolent  smile  as  he  warmly  shook  Volucy's 
hand.  "  You  find  me  in  the  line  of  my  professional  duty, 
as  usual.  I  am  prosecuting  investigations  which  will  ter 
minate,  I  am  sanguine,  in  the  successful  unraveling  of 
this  mysterious  concatenation." 

"  What  conclusions  have  you  thus  far  reached  ?"  asked 
Volney  in  a  low  voice,  beckoning  Craft  aside  from  the 
curious  group  that  was  already  beginning  to  encircle 
them. 

"  Friends,"  exclaimed  the  lawver,  waving  the  people 
back  with  a  benignant  smile  as  he  motioned  Volney  to 
the  direction  of  the  deserted  wood-shed,  "this  case  has 


354  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

now  assumed  a  legal  aspect.  You  will  oblige  me  and 
best  subserve  the  interests  of  justice  by  allowing  rny  client 
and  myself  an  opportunity  to  converse  and  consult  in 
private." 

Then,  turning  to  Volney  when  they  were  alone  in  the 
shed  and  he  had  closed  the  door  upon  the  still  prying  eyes 
of  the  villagers,  the  lawyer  asked, 

"  Do  I  understand  that  with  remarkable  foresight  you 
have  immediately  retained  my  services  in  this  important 
case  ?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  ready  answer  ;  "  and  for  whatever  ser 
vices  you  render  me,  or  those  even  more  directly* interested 
than  myself,  I  shall  be  glad  to  pay  you  to  the  full  extent 
of  my  ability." 

"  Hem  !  It  will  require  considerable  monetary  disper 
sion  to  prosecute  the  necessary  inquiries  in  this  case,  omit 
ting  all  mention  of  the  legal  acumen  which  must  be 
aroused -into  ceaseless  action  and  eternal  vigilance  if  vic 
tory  is  to  be  the  resultant.  Suppose,"  continued  Craft, 
smiling  blandly  and  laying  his  hand  with  something  of  a 
fatherly  motion  upon  Volney's  shoulder,  "you  agree  that 
my  fee  in  this  matter  shall  be  in  proportion  to  the  property 
recovered  ?.  If  under  fifty  thousand  dollars,  ten  per  cent, 
of  the  amount,  after  deducting  all  expenses  from  the  prin 
cipal  ;  if  over  fifty  thousand,  say  twenty  per  cent." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  young  man  with  a 
puzzled  face.  "  What  property  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Is  it  possible  that  your  intelligence  has  not  better 
ramified  the  possibilities  of  this  affair?"  replied  the  law 
yer  with  a  touch  of  reproof  in  his  kindly  tones.  "  Then 
niy  revelations  gathered  this  morning  and  confirmed  by 
my  previous  suspicions,  legally  adjusted,  will  prove  to 
you  not  only  a  surprise,  but  a  harbinger  of  joy.  For 
tunes,  when  they  come  with  love,  are  doubly  blessed  ;" 
and  his  eyes  glowed  with  a  heavenly  smile  of  appro 
bation. 

"  Will  you  explain  your  meaning  to  me  ?"  said  Volney, 
somewhat  impatiently.  "Let  us  talk  plainly.  I  have 
had  more  than  enough  of  mystery  already  this  morning." 

"  Why  need  I  longer  delay  ?  Nor  will  I,"  said  Craft 
half  aloud  to  himself  as  he  opened  his  note-book  and 


DEVELOPMENTS.  355 

extended  it,  with  the  pencil,  to  his  companion.  "Here! 
glance  your  eye  over  this  memorandum  agreement,  which 
I  formulated  in  '  The  Legal  Refuge'  in  anticipation  of  this 
very  conversation.  If  you  affix  your  signature  to  this 
document,  I  will  no  longer  hesitate  to  make  you  the 
recipient  of  the  important  revelations  of  which  I  am  the 
sole  possessor." 

Volney  read  the  agreement.     It  was  as  follows  : 

"  I  hereby  agree  that  in  case  Rader  Craft,  Esq.,  attorney  and  coun- 
sellor-at-law,  of  Slowville,  Wyoming  County,  State  of  Pennsylvania,  who 
is  employed  by  me  for  that  express  purpose,  shall  in  any  way,  either 
directly  or  indirectly,  succeed  in  recovering  the  fortune  to  which  a 
young  woman  now  resident  in  Slowville,  and  known  under  the  name 
of  Emily  Grundle,  is  entitled,  then  the  said  Kader  Craft  shall  receive 
as  his  compensation  for  his  said  services  ten  per  cent,  of  the  said  re 
covered  fortune  if  it  be  fifty  thousand  dollars  or  less,  and  twenty  per 
cent,  of  said  recovered  fortune  if  it  be  more  than  fifty  thousand 
dollars." 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  asked  Volney  after  a  pause, 
glancing  from  the  book  to  his  companion  with  an  expres 
sion  so  dazed  and  confused  that  the  lawyer  added  a  trifle 
more  of  blandness  to  his  reassuring  smile. 

"  Explanations  will  be  forthcoming  after  you  have 
signed  this  paper,"  said  Craft,  extending  his  fountain-pen 
in  answer  to  the  still  questioning  face,  and  pointing  with 
a  little  authoritative  motion  at  the  vacant  space  beneath 
the  document  where  were  the  letters  "  L.  S." 

"  But  suppose  the  young  lady  has  a  fortune  of  which 
she  is  deprived  for  the  present,"  said  Volney,  after  he  had 
read  the  agreement  more  slowly  a  second  time;  "what 
right  have  I,  legally  or  otherwise,  to  promise  you  any 
portion  of  it  for  its  recovery  ?" 

"Explanations  will  be  forthcoming  after  your  signature 
is  thereto  affixed,"  was  the  reply,  and  the  bland  smile 
deepened  with  a  suggestion  of  valuable  information  that 
was  with  difficulty  suppressed. 

"  I  still  maintain  the  uselessness  of  my  signature  in 
this  connection,"  slowly  rejoined  Volney ;  but  as  he  saw 
how  the  lawyer's  face  gleamed  with  a  hidden  meaning  he 
added,  "  However,  as  there  seems  to  be  no  other  way  for 
me  to  gain  the  important  information  of  which  you  are 
evidently  possessed,  I  will  sign  my  name.  There  it  is !" 


356  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

rapidly  writing  his  signature  and  handing  back  the  book. 
"  Now  oblige  me  by  no  further  delay." 

"  One  moment.  We  need  a  couple  of  witnesses  to 
make  this  document  a  legal  instrument/'  said  the  lawyer, 
stepping  to  the  door  and  calling  in  two  villagers,  who,  in 
response  to  his  directions,  wrote  their  names  on  the  left  of 
the  young  man's  signature,  while  the  lawyer's  broad  palm 
covered  the  agreement  from  their  curious  eyes. 

"  Now  that  the  preliminaries  are  so  admirably  arranged," 
resumed  Craft  after  the  witnesses  had  reluctantly  with 
drawn,  "we  will  proceed  to  the  further  elucidation  of  our 
arrangements.  I  shall  not  enter  into  detail  nor  burden 
your  memory  with  minutiae,"  he  continued,  significantly 
tapping  the  open  palm  of  his  left  hand  with  his  right 
forefinger.  "It  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose  that  you 
should  be  put  in  possession  of  the  main  facts  only  of  this 
exceedingly  intricate  case.  Nor  will  it  be  of  anv  advan 
tage  for  you  to  know  by  what  process  of  ratiocination,  or 
how,  aided  by  legal  methods  of  observation,  I  have 
arrived  at  the  particular  conclusions  which  bear  so 
weightily  upon  the  successful  issue  of  this  affair.  Let  us 
plunge  in  medias  res — into  the  midst  of  affairs.  Primo — 
in  the  first  place:  Emily  Grundle  is  an.  heiress;  I  am  as 
confident  of  the  truth  of  this  affirmation  as  I  am  of  fhe 
consciousness  of  my  own  identity.  Secundo — in  the  sec 
ond  place  :  the  singular  life  which  has  been  imposed  upon 
her  by  that  old  man  who  purported  to  be  her  father  was 
only  in  strict  accordance  with  the  scheme  to  defraud  her 
of  her  inheritance.  Tcrtio — in  the  third  place  :  the  events 
of  last  night — namely,  the  disappearance  of  this  old  man 
in  company  with  his  mysterious  companion — is  the  culmi 
nation  of  the  aforesaid  scheme.  The  time  for  possessing 
themselves  of  her  fortune  having  arrived,  these  two  mer 
cenary  despoilers  of  an  orphaned  maiden  departed  in  the 
dead  of  night  to  complete  the  final  act  in  this  gigantic 
scheme  of  robbery." 

The  lawyer  paused,  looked  inexpressibly  solemn  and 
blew  a  loud  blast  upon  his  handkerchief.  He  kept  his 
eyes  upon  Volney's  face  for  the  space  of  a  minute,  and 
then  asked  in  a  low,  grave  voice, 

"  Do  you  apprehend,  my  young  friend,  the  remarkable 


DEVELOPMENTS.  357 

concurrence  of  these  various  circumstances,  pointing  to 
but  one  legitimate  inference — a  defrauded  heiress  ?" 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  her  life  being  involved  in 
some  mystery/'  replied  the  listener,  his  look  of  astonish 
ment  slowly  giving  way  to  a  thoughtful  expression.  "I 
never  could  believe  that  Nicholas  Grundle  was  her  father. 
Your  solution  of  the  case  is  indeed  a  surprise  to  me.  Yet 
it  is  not  improbable,  especially  since  you  assert  that  what 
you  have  said  are  facts,  and  not  inferences.  Well,  grant 
ing  your  view  of  the  case  to  be  the  correct  one,  what  is  to 
be  done?  AVe  certainly  ought  to  act  promptly." 

"  A  very  correct  as  well  as  instantaneous  apprehension 
of  our  "duty  !"  exclaimed  Craft,  rubbing  his  hands  glee 
fully,  while  his  face  rippled  all  over  with  approving 
smiles.  "  I  was  fearful  you  might  hesitate  in  reference 
to  my  immediate  action ;  but  such  not  being  the  case,  I 
shall  now  acquaint  you  with  my  plan  of  procedure,  with 
no  doubt  as  to  its  instant  approval  and  your  hearty  co 
operation." 

"  Whatever  duty  falls  to  me  in  righting  this  wrong,  you 
will  find  me  quickly  and  willingly  performing  it,"  said 
Volney,  his  countenance  kindling  with  enthusiastic  de 
termination. 

"Noble  coadjutor  of  justice  !"  cried  the  lawyer,  gazing 
at  him  with  an  admiring  glance.  "  Your  words  ring  in 
my  ears  like  the  bugle-blast  of  truth.  Glorious!  glori 
ous  !  They  presage  victory,  like  the  Spartan  cry  of  old. 
Let  us,  then,  delay  not,  but  advance  to  the  field  of  action." 
I  have  revealed  to  you  three  main  facts ;  now  I  submit 
for  your  adoption  three  main  duties  arising  from  those 
aforesaid  facts.  Primo :  you  must  take  Emily  Grundle 
away  from  Slowville  this  very  night ;  seoundo :  you  must 
marry  her — a  duty  that  will  doubtless  prove  a  pleasure ; 
tciiio:  you  must  keep  her  in  strict  seclusion  somewhere 
until  we  have  discovered  these  villains  and  her  appearance 
becomes  necessary  to  convict  them  and  regain  her  property. 
Tins,  in  brief,  is  your  duty  ;  the  detective  and  legal  por 
tion  of  the  case  shall  be  mine.  Now,  do  not  object,  for  in 
no  other  way  can  our  success  be  assured." 

Volney  was  already  pacing  the  floor  with  a  troubled 
face,  slowly  repeating  to  himself  what  the  lawyer  had 


358  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

said.  Strange  it  was,  he  thought,  that  this  suggestion  of 
marrying  Emily  so  coincided  with  his  own  secret  deter 
mination,  which  had  been  growing  stronger  as  every  mo 
ment  of  the  morning  had  passed  by.  A  new  element  had 
entered  into  the  case,  and  it  was  this  that  disturbed  him 
now.  Emily,  the  lawyer  had  told  him,  was  an  heiress. 
If  lie  should  marry  her  in  this  clandestine  way,  would 
it  not  be  said  that,  taking  advantage  of  her  ignorance  of 
her  true  circumstances,  he  had  made  her  his  wife  solely  to 
possess  himself  of  her  money  ?  His  sensitive  soul  rebel 
led  at  this  suggestion,  and  he  uneasily  walked  about  in 
silence. 

"  I  see  you  hesitate  about  marrying  the  maiden  for  fear 
your  motives  might  be  misconstrued,"  said  the  lawyer, 
coming  up  to  him.  The  young  man  nodded  assent  to  his 
words ;  and  laying  his  hand  upon  Volney's  shoulder, 
Craft  continued :  "  Why,  when  your  happiness  and  hers 
is  at  stake,  should  you  care  what  the  world  might  say  ? 
Our  best  actions  are  many  times  misconstrued.  The 
world's  censure  is  as  often  misplaced  as  its  praise. 
Come !  let  us  discuss  the  plan  more  in  detail,  for  its 
success  depends  chiefly  upon  your  marriage  with  Emily. 
"Unless  you  are  her  husband,  you  have  no  legal  right  to 
act  for  her.  Simply  as  a  friend  you  cannot  protect  her 
from  the  further  machinations  of  these  scoundrels,  or  suc 
cessfully  aid  her  in  regaining  her  property  when  we  have 
discovered  it.  One  of  these  men  is  her  lawful  guardian, 
who  may  yet,  failing  in  some  way  to  gain  possession  of 
her  fortune,  return  to  claim  his  guardianship  over  her. 
As  your  wife  she  wrould  be  safe  from  their  clutches,  no 
matter  what  might  be  their  evil  designs.  As  her  hus 
band  you  would  be  her  natural  and  lawful  protector." 

Thus  the  lawyer  went  on  with  his  argument,  so  ingeni 
ously  piling  up  reason  upon  reason,  and  ever  keeping  in 
the  foreground  the  imminent  peril  to  which  Emily,  un 
married,  was  subjected,  that  his  listener  gradually  yielded 
all  objection  to  the  plan,  and  at  last  consented  to  adopt  it. 

"Secrecy  is  an  invaluable  element  toward  our  success. 
Do  not  tell  even  your  mother  of  this  conversation,"  said 
Craft  as  Volney  made  known  to  him  his  intention  of  going 
to  Philadelphia  with  Emily.  "  It  is  best  that  you  should 


DE  VEL  OPMENTS.  359 

instantly  return  home  and  prepare  for  your  departure  this 
very  night  on  the  midnight  train.  You  can  find  out 
nothing  more  at  the  village  concerning  these  strange  cir 
cumstances  than  I  have  already  told  you,  except  that  the 
old  man  and  his  dog  went  eastward  on  a  freight-train  last 
night.  Nothing  has  been  seen  of  the  stranger  who  was 
thought  to  be  the  miser's  companion.  Leave  the  finding 
of  them  both  to  me.  I  shall  communicate  progress  to  you. 
Let  me  see :  what  address  did  you  say  ?  Ah !  I  have 
it  here/'  referring  to  his  note-book.  "'Care  of  William 
Marsh,  Manayunk.'  Well,  good-bye,  my  son!  God  bless 
you !  May  the  happiness  of  your  married  life  be  com 
mensurate  with  your  merits,  and  sweet  as  the  lovely  face 
of  your  adorable  companion !" 

They  parted.  Volney  rode  back  home  with  a  heart  far 
lighter  than  he  had  borne  when  he  came  away.  Yes,  he 
would  marry  the  girl,  whatever  the  world  might  say. 
AVThat  other  reason  was  there  that  he  should  not?  Had 
not  Aziel  too  suggested  this  very  course  to  him?  Ah! 
what  else  could  he  do  to  save  Emily  from  cruelty  and 
injustice,  that  without  his  protecting  arm  might  yet  doom 
her  to  a  life  of  further  misery.  Poor,  dear  Emily  !  She 
had  no  one  but  himself  to  look  to  now  for  care  and  love 
and  sympathy.  But  would  she  marry  him  so  soon — to 
morrow,  perhaps?  He  drew  a  long  sigh  as  he  asked  him 
self  this  question  ;  then,  after  a  moment's  thought,  a  little 
smile  of  triumph  lighted  up  his  face.  He  had  not  the 
slightest  doubt  that  she  would  marry  him,  no  matter  when 
or  how  or  where  he  might  wish  her  to. 

Nor  would  the  most  skeptical  in  such  affairs  have  had 
any  doubt  of  the  girl's  reply  had  sitch  a  one  this  very 
night  looked  in  upon  these  two,  seated  so  closely  together 
in  the  railroad-car  that  bore  them  toward  the  great  city 
with  a  rush  and  whir  and  grim  rattle  that  never  once  dis 
turbed  the  sweet  rhythm  of  their  loving  thoughts.  Ob 
livious  of  all  surroundings,  thinking  only  of  each  other, 
and  conscious  of  no  other  presence  save  their  own,  they 
were  talking  in  murmuring,  happy  tones.  They  were  hap 
piest  of  the  happy — full  of  life  and  hope.  Her  head  lay 
nestling  on  his  shoulder  and  his  arm  was  about  her  with  a 
tender  clasp,  that  now  and  then  pressed  her  form  more 


360  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

closely  as  he  joyfully  thought  how  wholly  dependent  she 
was  upon  his  protection  and  guidance. 

The  dim  light  of  the  overhanging  lamp  shone  down  in 
dull  contrast  upon  their  faces,  so  illumined  with  the  trans 
port  of  unrestrained  love.  She  was  indeed  very  happy,  be- 
cau^e  her  lover  had  promised  again  and  again  that  she  should 
see  her  father  very  soon.  And  until  she  should  rejoin  her 
parent,  Volney  besought  her  to  love  himself  as  dearly  as 
she  could,  for  her  father  would  never  again  separate  them. 
So  loving  him  she  was,  not  only  dearly,  but  with  every 
little  fibre  of  her  heart,  that  fluttered  with  unspeakable  joy 
as  she  nestled  still  closer  beneath  his  fondling  caress.  And 
he  ?  Ah  !  he  had  never  dreamed,  even  in  love's  most  ec 
static  visions,  of  such  happiness  as  this.  She  was  his — all 
his- — now  and  for  ever.  Even  when  she  should  be  his  wile 
in  name,  as  she  was  now  in  every  thought  and  feeling,  he 
was  sure  he  could  not  love  her  more  devoutly  or  become 
more  enraptured  by  her  presence.  Then,  with  just  the 
trifle  of  a  sigh,  he  remembered  that  as  yet  lie  had  not  been 
able  to  muster  the  courage  to  tell  her  of  his  plan  for  their 
being  married  on  the  morrow.  How  should  he  tell  her, 
and  when  could  he  best  introduce  the  subject?  Had  he  not 
already  deferred  this  important  question  too  long,  and  was 
it  not  growing  the  more  formidable  the  longer  lie  delayed 
it?  With  a  dash  of  resolution  he  tried  to  speak.  Some 
how,  his  voice  failed  him.  He  felt  the  arm  that  encircled 
her  suddenly  trembling  with  a  nervousness  he  could  not 
control.  He  knew  that  an  uneasy  look  of  doubt  and  hesi 
tation  had  already  crept  into  his  face. 

Just  then  her  hand  stirred  gently  on  his  shoulder.  Her 
eyes  looked  softly  up  at  him  with  a  glance  full  of  ten 
derness  and  trust.  Putting  her  little  hand  confidingly 
in  his  own  trembling  palm,  she  asked  in  a  murmur  that 
thrilled  him  with  its  loving  tones, 

"Are  you  not  very  happy — so  very,  very  happy — with 
me?" 

"So  happy  that  I  cannot  tell  you  of  it  all,"  he  whis 
pered  in  reply,  stealing  a  soft  kiss  from  her  forehead  in 
the  flickering  light.  "Oh,  if  you  were  only  my  wife," 
he  went  on,  as  her  eyes  glistened  with  joy  at  his  answer, 
"  I  should  be  the  happiest  man  in  all  the  world  !" 


DEVELOPMENTS.  361 

"  Cannot  I  be  your  wife  whenever  you  want  me  to  ?" 
she  asked  with  a  look  of  wonder  on  her  innocent,  ques 
tioning  face. 

With  a  smile  of  mingled  love  and  triumph  for  answer, 
he  pressed  her  closer  to  him.  His  lips  gently  touched  her 
cheek  as  he  murmured, 

"  Dear,  dear  Emily  !  you  are  all  mine  now — all  mine, 
my  precious  little  wife  !" 

Onward  whirled  the  train,  with  these  two  happy  hearts 
neither  knowing  nor  caring  that  the  midnight  hour  had 
long  since  passed. 

But  there  was  one  passenger  among  all  the  sleeping 
occupants'of  the  car  who  had  been  an  interested  eye-wit 
ness  of  this  love-making  scene — a  young  man  with  a 
bird-cage  at  his  side,  who  sat  half  a  dozen  seats  in  front 
of  the  lovers,  on  the  other  side  of  the  aisle.  He  was  ap 
parently  asleep.  His  slouched  hat  was  drawn  far  over 
his  face,  while  his  head  seemed  buried  in  his  arm,  which 
Avas  resting  negligently  on  the  back  of  his  seat.  Yet  the 
eyes  of  this  passenger,  bright  and  peering  as  ever  they 
were  in  broad  daylight,  had  been  fastened  upon  the  lovers 
ever  since  they  entered  the  car.  His  eyes  had  noted  every 
movement  of  the  young  couple,  and  with  wonderful  in 
tuition  he  interpreted  their  conduct  aright ;  for  now,  as 
the  lovers  sank  into  slumber  with  a  parting  kiss,  his 
watchful  gaze  was  slowly  withdrawn,  his  head  turned 
away,  and  over  his  face  there  came  an  odd  and  cunning 
smile. 

"The  die  is  cast,"  he  mentally  ejaculated.  "Scriptu- 
rally  speaking,  these  two  shall  be  one  flesh  before  to-mor 
row's  sun  hath  reached  its  zenith,  or  William  Dibb.s  is  a 
better  manipulator  of  the  reviving  fluid  than  he  is  a  prog- 
nosticator  of  the  immediate  issue  of  such  tender  demon 
strations.  Well,"  he  continued  after  a  melancholy  review 
of  his  unfortunate  attachment  for  Aziel  Loyd,  "  may 
Heaven  speed  them  on  their  nuptial  way,  and  may  the 
bitter  gall  of  regret  never  mingle  with  the  sweet  honey 
of  their  love  !  As  for  myself,  when  this  wounded  heart 
has  sufficiently  recovered  from  its  present  bereavement  to 
relocate  its  affections,  I  shall  try  to  apprehend  a  younger 
and  more  susceptible  maiden  than  Aziel,  who  shall  mean- 
si 


362  AS  IT  .MAY  HAPPEN. 

while  remain  the  shrouded  and  sainted  idol  of  my  inmost 
soul." 

\Vith  a  brief  glance  of  benediction  at  the  sleeping 
lovers,  Dibbs  curled  himself  up  in  his  seat  and  tried  to 
sleep.  But  his  own  projects  now  began  to  dance  about  in 
his  brain  with  anything  but  a  composing  motion,  and 
he  grew  wider  awake  in  his  efforts  to  dismiss  them. 

"Avaunt,  ye  disturbers  of  rest !"  he  muttered,  violently 
rubbing  his  head.  "  Knowest  thou  not  that  my  cerebral 
activity  must  be  preserved  in  statu  quo  for  the  morning? 
Cease,  then,  to  absorb  the  nervous  tissues  of  my  brain 
anv  longer  !" 

With  another  effort  at  composure  he  glanced  at  Spike, 
already  dozing  on  his  perch,  and  closed  his  eyes.  A  mo 
ment  later  he  was  slowly  counting,  one  by  one,  the  Cus 
tomers  as  they  filed  in  long  array  into  his  new  saloon  and 
each  dropped  a  piece  of  money  in  the  till ;  and  thus  he 
fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

NEW  CHARACTERS,  AND  OLD  ONES. 

TjWERYBODY  in  the  neighborhood,  from  the  decrepit 
JLJ  old  man  down  to  the  latest  toddling  child,  knew  Mrs. 
Sterrit.  Why  should  they  not  all  not  only  know  her,  but 
love  her  as  they  did,  when,  of  all  the  people  living  in  this 
locality,  she  alone  had  a  cheering  word  and  a  kind  smile 
for  every  one  she  met  in  her  little  rounds  of  marketing 
and  visiting  the  poor?  Yet  every  one,  not  excepting  the 
blind  man  who  so  often  ground  his  organ  in  front  of  her 
door,  saw  that  her  smile  had  a  trace  of  sadness  in  it,  like 
the  shadowed  lines  in  a  brilliant  picture.  Her  voice,  too, 
was  tinged  with  a  trifle  of  melancholy  even  in  its  happiest 
tones,  as  if  it  were  ever  echoing  some  tender  refrain  of 
a  sacred  secret  sorrow.  Whatever  was  the  hidden  grief 
of  "  the  dear  little  soul  " — that  was  what  everybody  called 
her — she  had  never  once  alluded  to  it,  even  to  those  who 
had  longest  known  her.  Once,  and  only  once,  had  her 


NEW  CHARACTERS,  AND   OLD  ONES.  363 

next-door  neighbor,  when  in  an  unusual  state  of  sympa 
thetic  and  curious  excitation,  sought  to  share  some  portion 
of  this  secret,  which  had  for  so  many  years  been  the  chief 
subject  of  the  neighborhood's  speculation  and  gossip.  In 
answer,  Mrs.  Sterrit  quietly  wiped  away  the  little  gush  of 
tears  which  the  question  had  evoked,  and  said,  as  she 
gratefully  pressed  the  woman's  hand, 

"It  is  better  that  I  should  not  tell.  God's  ways  are 
not  as  our  ways,  nor  His  thoughts  as  our  thoughts.  If 
some  day  He  shall  reveal  it,  as  I  am  sure  He  will,"  with 
an  upward  glance  of  fervent  faith  that  made  her  features 
glow  with  an  angelic  trust,  "then  you  shall  know  the 
heavy  load'  of  sorrow  I  have  carried  here  these  many 
years,"  laying  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  "yet  carrying 
it  always,  I  hope,  with  my  faith  growing  stronger  every 
day  that  He  does  indeed  do  all  things  well.  Ah  !  we 
poor  simple  creatures  find  it  very  hard  at  times  to 
submit  to  His  will,  and  to  kiss  the  hand  that  chastens 
us  ;  vet  this  is  life's  best  and  dearest  lesson,  hard  though 
it  be." 

This  afternoon  the  early  twilight  of  the  autumnal  day 
was  settling  down  upon  the  city.  Mrs.  Sterrit  was  seated 
beside  the  window  in  her  little  quaint  rocker,  with  the 
Venetian  blinds  turned  aslant,  throwing  the  fast-departing 
rays  of  light  upon  the  open  book  that  lay  in  her  lap. 
She  had  always  sat  here  at  this  hour  these  many  years, 
reading  this  book.  She  would  often  stop  in  its  perusal, 
and  closing  her  eyes  meditate  a  while,  her  folded  hands 
resting  upon  the  printed  page  as  if  clasped  in  prayer. 

"'Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is 
stayed  on  Thee,  because  he  trustcth  in  Thee.  Trust  ye  in 
the  Lord  for  ever  ;  for  in  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting 
strength.' " 

These  words  now  trembled  upon  her  lips.  Something 
in  this  divine  message  seemed  to  suddenly  awaken  the 
strongest  emotions  of  her  soul,  for  the  response  that 
came  to  her  voiceless  lips  was  a  long,  weary  sigh  that, 
welling  up  from  her  heart's  depths  of  sadness,  at  last 
filled  her  eyes  with  blinding  tears.  Fainter  and  fainter 
grew  the  lines  of  the  sacred  book.  Yet  softly  she  again 
breathed  out  the  divine  exhortation  as  she  drew  the  vol- 


364  AS  IT  MAY  IIAPPKX. 

ume  closer  with  a  caressing  motion  and  leaned  over  the 
precious  page. 

"Blessed  words  !"  she  murmured,  the  tears  falling  upon 
them  with  a  baptism  of  gratitude.  "  All !  they  never 
fail  to  comfort  me,  though  they  will  bring  to  my  mind 
so  strongly  the  long,  long  years  I  have  been  waiting, 
waiting,  waiting!" 

Kissing  the  lines  she  had  read,  she  closed  the  book  ten 
derly.  Her  clasped  hands  rested  softly  upon  the  volume. 
Her  drooping  head  gradually  fell  upon  her  bosom.  On 
her  silver  locks  a  parting  ray  of  sunlight  rested  like  a 
tender  touch  of  Heaven's  own  invisible  hand. 

Far  away,  back  through  the  years  that  had  passed  so 
slowly,  her  thoughts  went  with  the  speed  of  love's  unerr 
ing  memory.  Now  was  vivid  as  the  awful  day  it  hap 
pened  the  one  great  sorrow  of  her  soul  with  which- Heaven 
had  then  beclouded  her  happy  life.  In  one  brief  moment 
had  been  taken  from  her  all  that  her  heart  held  sacred. 
AVithout  a  word  of  warning  the  dearest  and  most  blessed 
ties  of  her  existence  had  been  severed.  Yet  improbable 
as  it  seemed  because  of  the  lapse  of  years  that  these1  treas 
ures  would  ever  be  hers  again,  or  that  those  ties  would  be 
reunited  in  this  world,  she  had  never  once  lost  faith  in 
such  a  belief.  Like  a  vestal  lamp  this  hope  had  burned 
with  a  bright  unceasing  flame  in  her  darkened  heart. 
Never  brighter  were  its  beams  than  now,  as  she  turned 
from  the  terrible  scene  which  memory  had  pictured  with 
such  pitiless  completeness,  and  breathed  again  her  ever- 
present  prayer  of  faith  and  hope. 

"Gig,  Gog,  Gagger!"  exclaimed  a  young  female  voice, 
bursting  in  upon  the  solemnity  of  this  scene.  "  I  never 
seed  such  a  crabbed  man  !  I  wish  I  had  a-died  afore  he 
came  to  this  house.  But  I'll  spill  him  on  the  floor  yet, 
the  old  vinegar-cruet !" 

The  speaker  was  a  girl — or  more  nearly  a  woman — of 
robust  and  good-proportioned  figure,  that  looked  well 
despite  her  plain  and  slovenly  attire.  Her  red  hair  hung 
down  behind  her  in  two  long  braids,  while  a  row  of  dirty 
curl-papers  decorated  her  well-shaped  forehead.  Her 
short  dress,  with  here  and  there  a  rent,  disclosed  a  pair  of 
untied  shoes  down  at  the  heels.  Her  arms,  bare  to  the 


CHARACTERS,   AND   OLD   ONES.  365 

elbows,  were  violently  gesticulating.  Her  large  eyes  were 
glaring  with  vindictiveness,  while  her  unusually  white 
teeth  gleamed  through  her  angrily-parted  lips. 

"Charity,  my  child,"  said  Mrs.  Sterrit,  quietly  turning 
to  the  girl  and  putting  out  her  hand  with  a  little  reprov 
ing  gesture,  "  why  do  you  allow  your  passion  to  get  the 
better  of  you?  Don't  you  know  that  we  submit  our 
selves  to  one  of  our  worst  enemies  when  we  give  way  to 
our  anger?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  stoutly  rejoined  the  girl,  her  shaking 
head  keeping  time  with  her  wrathful  arms.  "I  believe 
in  getting  mad,  I  do.  Who's  to  take  your  part,  if  you 
don't  take  if  yourself?  Oh  yes  ;  I  know  all  you're  going 
to  say — about  my  being  a  woman,  and  all  that.  But 
what's 'being  a  woman  got  to  do  against  my  standing  up 
for  my  rights,  I  should  like  to  know?  I  wish  I  were 
a  man ;  I  would  punch  him  in  the  eye,  so  I  would. 
And  I've  a  good  mind  to,  anyhow,  the  old  heathen  !" 
shaking  her  fist  in  the  direction  of  the  room  above. 

While  Charity  had  been  speaking,  Mrs.  Sterrit  had 
risen  from  her  chair  and  gently  approached  her.  She 
laid  her  hand  soothingly  upon  the  girl's  shoulder,  and 
said,  with  a  little  mournful  shake  of  her  head, 

"  Charity,  my  dear  child,  it  grieves  me  very  much  to 
hear  you  talk  in  this  way." 

"  Does  it,  though  ?"  cried  Charity,  wrenching  herself 
away.  "  Well,  it  does  me  good,  so  it  does.  What's  a 
person's  tongue  worth  if  you  can't  blab  out  what  you 
mean,  once  in  a  while?  Gingo  Csesar !  I  never  was  mad 
der  !"  she  continued,  clenching  her  fists  and  gritting  her 
teeth.  "Oh,  if  I  only  had  hold  of  him  now,  I  would 
make  his  bones  crack,  or  I'm  no  orphan !" 

"  Charity,  Charity  !"  was  the  mild  exclamation  of  the 
little  woman  as  she  looked  beseechingly  at  her.  "Don't 
use  such  dreadful  language.  Won't  you  be  quiet  ?  Please 
do  !  Tell  me  now  what  has  made  you  so  angry.  You  know 
I  would  not  willingly  let  anybody  impose  on  you.  You  are 
all  I  have  to  love  in  this  world,  Charity,  my  dear!"  put 
ting  her  hand  with  an  affectionate  gesture  upon  the  other's 
arm. 

"Now,  don't  talk  and  look  that  way,  Mrs.  Sterrit,"  said 


366  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

Charity,  somewhat  mollified  as  the  old  lady  continued  her 
demonstrations  of  affection.  "If  you  do,  you'll  drive  all 
the  mad  out  of  me.  And  I  want  to  keep  it,  I  do.  It 
kind  of  makes  me  feel  good,  so  it  does.  You  never 
kmnved,  I  guess,  what  a  real  comfort  it  is  to  get  your 
Dutch  up  when  people  is  imposing  on  you.  Dear  me !  I 
wouldn't  have  your  soft  heart  if  you  could  give  it  to  me 
this  minute.  It  would  just  make  me  miserable,  so  it  would. 
Getting  mad  is  the  only  luxury  I  have.  Indeed,  I'd  sooner 
die  than  not  be  able  to  get  mad  with  those  that  abuses  me. 
I  wish  I  was  dead  now,  so  I  do.  Who  cares  for  me?  I'm 
nothing  but  an  orphan,  anyhow.  Orphans  gets  no  show  in 
this  world.  I  hopes  they'll  get  some  one  to  use  them  right 
in  the  next  world.  Oh  dear!  oh  dear!  I  wish  1  was 
riding  in  a  hearse,  I  do.  It's  the  only  chance  I'll  get  to 
ride  in  a  carriage,  unless  I  marries  a  rich  man.  But 
there's  no  show  for  me  to  get  married.  No  fellow  wants 
to  marry  an  orphan  that's  got  no  money  !" 

Here  she  began  to  cry  as  passionately  as  she  had  before 
been  giving  way  to  her  anger.  Mrs.  Sterrit  put  her  arm 
around  the  girl's  neck  and  drew  her  unresisting  head  down 
upon  her  shoulder.  Caressingly  patting  the  tear-streaming 
cheek,  she  said, 

"  Charity,  my  dear,  do  you  remember  the  day  I  first 
brought  you  here?  It  will  be  just  twelve  years  ago  next 
Saturday  since  I  led  you  in  yonder  door,  a  dear,  sweet 
child.  I  can  see  you  now,"  her  tremulous  voice  somewhat 
recovering  itself,  "staring  around  the  room  with  your  little 
look  of  wonder  and  pleasure  as  you  asked  me  whether  I 
was  going  to  be  your  mother  and  make  this  your  home. 
Did  I  not  fold  you  in  my  arms  and  kiss  you,  Charity,  and 
say  then,  as  I  do  now,  that  this  was  not  only  to  be  your 
home,  but  that  I  would  try  to  love  and  care  for  you  as 
your  own  dear  dead  parents  would  have  done?  Oh, 
Charity,  I  have  loved  you  far,  far  more  than  you  can 
ever  know.  Yes,  I  have  tried  to  keep  my  promise;  I 
have  done  my  duty  by  you  as  God  has  given  me  the 
ability.  I  did  not  think  I  should  ever  live  to  hear  you 
say  that  I  do  not  love  and  care  for  you !" 

"  Oh,  please  don't  cry  !  I  didn't  mean  that !"  quickly 
replied  Charity  in  a  tone  as  sympathetic  as  that  of  her 


NEW  CHARACTERS,   AND   OLD   ONES.  367 

mistress,  throwing  her  arms  around  Mrs.  Sterrit  and 
wiping  the  tears  away  from  the  old  lady's  eyes  with  the 
cleanest  corner  of  her  own  soiled  apron.  "You  have  been 
the  dearest  mother  to  me,  so  you  have.  I  don't  deserve  it, 
neither,  I  don't.  Oh  dear !  oh  dear !  I  was  trying  to  be 
so  good  before  that  old  curmudgeon  came  here.  Why,  I 
hadn't  said  one  of  those  bad  words,  as  you  call  them,  for 
three  whole  days,  and  I  wasn't  mad  for  a  week.  But  ever 
since  he  has  been  in  the  house  he's  riled  me  up  so  that  I've 
been  dancing  around  all  day  like  a  drop  of  water  in  a  red- 
hot  skillet," 

"  True — too  true.  Mr.  Gagger's  disposition  is  a  very 
excitable  one,"  said  Mrs.  Sterrit  as  the  girl  stood  silent 
and  evidently  tried  to  control  the  feelings  which  these  last 
words  had  aroused.  "  But,  Charity  dear,  you  will  be  better 
able  to  bear  with  him  if  you  will  only  remember  that  he 
is  an  old  man.  Besides,  he  is  afflicted  just  now  with  the 
gout — a  very  painful  and  irritating  disease.  And  I  judge, 
from  what  his  nephew  Silas  says,  he  is  worried,  too,  by 
some  recent  domestic  trouble.  Ah,  Charity !  we  would 
all  make  greater  allowances  for  people's  shortcomings  could 
we  know  their  secret  sorrows  and  trouble." 

"  I  wish  he  had  paralytics  instead  of  gout,"  rejoined 
Charity  with  a  malicious  gleam  in  her  eyes.  "  Then  I 
wouldn't  get  half  so  mad  at  him.  He  couldn't  throw  his 
cane  at  me  then,  as  he  did  just  now.  But  I  was  too  quick 
for  him.  I  dodged  the  cane ;  indeed  did  I !  It  flew  against 
the  looking-glass  and  smashed  it  all  to  pieces.  Then  it 
bounded  back  like  a  base- ball,  and  struck  him  on  his 
gouty  foot.  Oh,  you  ought  to  have  heard  him  roar  and 
cuss !  It  was  better  than  a  menagerie,  so  it  was." 

The  girl,  despite  the  old  lady's  mild  remonstrance,  gave 
a  rapid  and  gleeful  representation  of  the  scene,  imitating 
the  voice  and  manner  of  Silas  Gagger  to  such  perfection 
that  her  companion  could  not  repress  a  smile,  for  which 
her  heart  chidingly  reproached  her,  for  all  the  "tenderness 
of  a  true  woman  was  in  her  heart. 

"  Poor  old  soul !"  resumed  Mrs.  Sterrit  with  a  look  of 
deepest  sympathy.  "  How  I  pity  him,  being  forced  to 
make  his  home  with  strangers !  Ah  !  an  old  man  all 
alone  in  the  world  has  indeed  a  miserable  lot.  An  old 


368  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

woman  always  finds  a  home  or  friends  somewhere,  but 
who  cares  for  an  old  man?" 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  woman  for  loving  old  men  as  you 
are,"  said  Charity,  half  soliloquizing.  "  It's  very  strange, 
so  it  is.  I  believe  you  would  sooner  see  an  old  man  go 
by  this  house  than  a  procession  of  real  kings  a  mile  long. 
Oh,"  excitedly  throwing  up  her  hands,  "  I  must  not  for 
get  to  tell  you.  There  was  the  funniest-looking  old  man 
went  by  our  alley-gate  just  afore  I  came  in.  It  was  while 
you  was  reading  your  Bible." 

"  How  did  he  look  ?  How  old  was  he  ?"  suddenly  asked 
Mrs.  Sterrit,  a  tremor  in  her  voice  and  a  startled  look, 
half  questioning,  half  hopeful,  in  her  eyes,  though  she 
strove  to  conceal  her  agitation. 

Strange  that  this  excitement  always  came  upon  her 
when  she  saw  an  old  man  in  the  streets  or  heard  that 
one  had  passed  near  the  house  unobserved  by  her. 

"  Well,"  continued  Charity  with  a  long  breath  as  she 
smoothed  her  apron  and  tried  to  look  as  important  as  the 
relation  she  was  about  to  make,  "  he  was  the  queerest  old 
man  I  ever  seen.  I'll  tell  you  just  how  I  saw  him.  I 
was  down  at  our  back  gate  talking  with  Lanty  Joy. 
Lanty,  you  know,  is  the  boy  that  tends  bar  over  at  the 
Golden  Bowl.  He  was  going  home  to  his  supper.  '  What's 
the  news,  Lantv?'  says  I ;  and  says  he,  'Lots  !  I'm  going 
to  have  a  new  boss  to-morrow.  The  cops  are  layin'  for 
Billy  the  Cleaver,  and  he's  got  to  light  out  or  he'll  be 
jugged.'  'Who's  the  new  boss?'  said  I.  '  A  feller  from 
the  country/  says  he.  'I  seen  a  telagrip  from  him  to  my 
old  boss  to-day.'  '  What was  in  the  telagrip  ?' says  I. 
1  Hold  Golden  Bowl  forme.  Will  buy.  Starr  to-night. 
William  Dibbs,'  says  he—" 

"  But  the  old  man,  Charity  dear?  Please  do  not  be  so 
long,  but  tell  me  about  him,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Sterrit, 
putting  out  her  hands  with  just  the  trifle  of  an  impatient 
gesture. 

"  Well,"  another  long  breath  and  a  loud  smack  of  the 
lips,  "I'm  coining  to  him  now.  Lanty  soon  ran  off  home, 
and  was  turning  the  corner  when  I  looked  down  the  alley 
and  saw  an  old  man  and  a  savage-looking  dog  sneaking 
up  this  way.  So  I  just  closed  the  gate  and  put  my  eye  to 


NEW  CHARACTERS,  AND   OLD   ONES.  369 

a  knothole  in  the  fence  and  watched  them.  Would  you 
believe  it?  By  and  by  the  old  man  and  his  dog  came 
alorjg  and  sat  right  down  on  the  sidewalk,  almost  under 
my  very  nose.  There  was  only  the  fence  between  us,  so  I 
could  hear  every  word  he  said.  It  was  an  awful  queer 
lot  of  gab.  He  was  whispering  and  talking  low,  kind  of 
simple-like,  to  the  dog." 

"  Poor  soul !  His  mind  is  probably  weak  with  age  and 
suffering.  What  did  he  say  ?"  The  old  lady's  voice  wan 
very  husky  and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why,  it  was  the  queerest  talk  I  ever  heard.  The 
dog,  though,  acted  as  if  he  understood  every  bit  of  it, 
which  was  more  than  I  did.  I  can't  remember  it  all, 
the  old  man  whispered  so,  and  his  voice  was  so  shrill  and 
cracked  like.  It  was  something  like  this  he  said  :  '  Yes, 
yes,  Csesar !  we  are  on  their  track.  Ah  !  they  won't  get 
away  from  us,  will  they  ?  You  must  watch  every  fn.ce, 
Csesar;  you  must  smell  everybody.  Your  poor  old 
master  is  now  blind,  you  know.  Ha,  ha!  Blind  !  blind  ! 
Here,  Csesar,  do  you  remember  this  ?  Ah  !  I  know  you 
will  look  sharp  for  Emily.'  Then  he  took  a  girl's  shoe 
from  his  pocket  and  rubbed  it  over  the  dog's  nose,  and 
the  dog  licked  the  shoe  and  whined  just  as  if  he  was 
crying." 

"  Emily  !"  sighed  the  listener,  whose  attitude  had  been 
one  of  intensest  interest,  holding  on  to  the  girl's  arm 
with  a  trembling  grasp,  her  white  face  rapt  in  an  eager 
ness  of  expectation.  "  Poor  old  soul,  he  has  lost  his 
child !  May  God  in  His  mercy  soon  bring  her  back  to 
him!" 

"  Another  awful  funny  thing  he  did,"  resumed  Charity. 
"  He  kind  of  fondled  the  shoe  for  a  while,  and  cried  over 
it  just  like  a  baby.  Then  he  put  it  back  in  his  pocket 
and  took  out  a  piece  of  white  rag.  This  he  rubbed  on 
the  dog's  nose,  saying  something  like  this  :  l  You  remem 
ber  him,  Cjcsar?  Yes,  you  never  did  like  him.  So  you 
will  find  him  sooner  for  that.  You  know,  Csesar — a  tall 
man  with  a  black  beard  on  his  lips  and  chin.'  I  never 
saw  the  beat  of  that  dog!  He  just  jumped  right  up  like 
he'd  been  shot.  He  grabbed  that  piece  of  cloth  in  his 
mouth,  and  shook  it  and  growled  as  if  he  was  mad ;  and 

Y 


370  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

the  old  man  laughed  and  patted  him  on  the  head,  and 
hugged  him  and  hugged  him.  It  was  as  much  as  he 
could  do  to  get  the  cloth  away  from  the  dog.  At  last  he 
did,  and  hid  it  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  got  up  and  hob- 
bled  away,  with  the  dog  in  front  of  him,  hitched  to  a 
chain,  and  he  holding  onto  it.  He  looked  just  like  an 
old  blind  man  I  once  read  of  being  led  around  by  a  dog." 

"  Was  he  a  small  man  ?  Had  he  a  stoop  in  his  shoul 
ders?  Did  you  see  his  face?  Was  it  a  small,  thin  face? 
Were  his  eyes  black  ?  Did  he  put  his  hands  up  to  his 
temples  this  way,  as  if  they  were  aching  him?" 

These  questions  the  old  lady  asked  in  such  an  excited, 
half-frantic  manner  that  the  girl's  own  face  took  on  a  look 
of  amazement. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Sterrit,  what  makes  you  look  so  white?" 
exclaimed  Charity.  "The  man  can't  be  any  relation  of 
yours,  can  he?  I  wish  now  I'd  opened  the  gate  and 
looked  after  him,  so  I  could  tell  you  more  about  him,  but 
I  was  so  awful  afraid  of  that  dog.  I  believe  if  he'd 
known  that  I  was  listening  to  his  master  he  would  have 
jumped  clean  over  the  fence  and  torn  me  into  inch  bits ; 
indeed  he  would  !" 

Mrs.  Sterrit  had  hurriedly  taken  her  bonnet  and  shawl 
from  the  little  closet  while  the  girl  had  been  speaking. 
Putting  them  on  with  nervous,  rapid  motions,  she  hastened 
toward  the  door,  saying  to  the  girl  in  a  voice  agitated  be 
yond  concealment, 

"  Charity,  my  dear,  I  must  see  this  old  man  if  I  can. 
Something  tells  me  I  must  see  him." 

When  the  old  lady  had  gone,  and  Charity  saw  her 
form  flit  by  the  window  in  the  direction  the  aged  stranger 
had  taken,  she  sat  down  in  a  chair,  and  folding  her  hands 
thus  soliloquized : 

"I  wonder  if  she  will  ever  get  through  hankering  after 
old  men?  This  makes  about  the  forty-'leventh  thousand 
she's  run  after,  to  my  own  knowledge.  What  in  the  world 
docs  she  want  of  these  old  men,  I  should  like  to  know? 
I  wonder  if  she  wants  to  get  married,  and  is  trying  to 
take  her  pick  of  the  lot?  Oh  dear!  I  wish  I'  was 
married,  I  do.  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  fellow  William 
Dibbs  is,  that  Lanty  nays  is  going  to  buy  out  the  Golden 


WILLIAM  DIBBS  FINDS  A   CLEW.  371 

Bowl  ?  Maybe  he's  a  good  chance  for  me.  I'll  lay  for 
him  to-morrow;  indeed  will  I!  Perhaps  Mr.  Bibbs 
might  take  a  shine  to  me.  I  know  of  worse-looking  girls 
than  I  am,"  tossing  her  head  with  a  saucy  air,  "  that  have 
snapped  up  a  fellow  at  first  sight.  Hello!  There's  old 
curmudgeon  pounding  on  the  floor  with  his  cane.  Wants 
his  toast  and  tea.  Good-bye,  sweet  William  !  I'm  going 
for  you  to-morrow." 

With  a  ringing  laugh  and  a  hop,  skip  and  jump  she 
disappeared  into  the  kitchen,  and  catching  up  a  slice  of 
bread  prepared  to  toast  it,  running  the  fork  into  it  with 
the  muttered  exclamation,  "  I  wish  you  was  old  Gagger's 
sore  foot ;"  indeed  do  I !" 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

WILLIAM  DIBBS  FINDS  A  CLEW. 

"  rn  HOUGH  haste  doth  not  become  a  gentleman,  let  me 
JL  not  linger  longer  amid  the  initiatory  scenes  of  my 
triumph !"  exclaimed  Dibbs  under  his  breath  as  he  leaped 
from  the  car  with  his  bird-cage  and  valise.  His  quick  eyes 
caught  sight  of  the  rear  entrance  to  the  d6pot.  He  cast  a 
parting  look  at  Volneyand  Emily,  who  were  walking  slowly 
arm  in  arm  toward  the  main  door.  Then  he  darted  away 
with  an  approving  smile,  and  was  soon  hurrying  along  the 
back  streets,  now  and  then  glancing  over  his  shoulders  as 
if  he  were  expecting  to  be  followed.  He  did  not  slacken 
his  rapid  pace  for  some  time.  Although  his  main  direction 
was  the  same,  he  turned  here  and  there,  now  to  the  right 
and  now  to  the  left,  threading  his  way  wherever  an  alley 
or  arched  passage  or  unfrequented  street  met  his  view. 
All  the  while  there  was  a  gleam  of  mischief  in  his  eyes 
and  a  smothered  smile  upon  his  face.  At  last,  after  an 
hour  of  this  hasty  zig-zag  walking,  which  seemed  to  par 
take  wholly  of  the  nature  of  a  flight,  he  came  to  one  of  the 
open  squares  of  the  city.  Here  he  sought  out  an  obscure 
seat,  and  placing  his  valise  and  cage  beside  him  thus  de- 


372  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

liverecl  himself,  with  many  a  laugh  and  gleeful  rubbing  of 
his  hands : 

"William  my  boy,  you  have  surpassed  yourself!  Your 
native  talent  has  this  morning  shone  resplendent  as  yon 
gorgeous  luminary  of  the  heavens.  Your  skillful  manipu 
lation  of  dubious  currency  was  a  stroke  of  financial  genius 
that,  unrestrained,  would  extinguish  even  the  national  debt. 
I  wonder  what  impressions  of  your  rural  innocence  pre 
vail  at  present  in  the  raging  bosom  of  your  turkey-friend? 
Wanted  to  liquidate  a  little  bill  of  sixty  dollars  with  my 
temporary  assistance,  did  he?  Well,  did  I  not  aid  him 
with  that  quick  response  to  humanity's  urgent  call  which 
ever  thrills  my  noble  heart  ?  Did  I  not  generously  tender 
him  the  loan  of  that  one-hundred-dollar  bill  which  I  in 
formed  him  with  a  husky  voice — a  verv  husky  voice — my 
mother  had  bestowed  upon  me,  with  her  parting  prayer 
for  my  success,  when  I  had  bid  adieu  to  the  old  homestead 
the  night  previous?  How  profuse  his  expressions  of  grati 
tude  !  How  eagerly  his  hand  clutched  that  sacred  parental 
gift !  How  cheerfully  his  urgent  creditor,  with  a  compli 
ment  upon  my  mother's  thoughtful  generosity,  returned  me 
the  forty  dollars  of  good  money  in  change! 

"  Oh,  Gunbridge  &  Co.!"  he  continued,  the  tears  of 
laughter  running  down  his  face;  "had  you  witnessed  this 
transaction,  you  would  have  been  amply  repaid,  I  hope,  for 
your  confidence  in  me — a  confidence,  gentlemen,  which  will 
never  be  confirmed  by  any  pecuniary  remittance  on  the 
part  of  yours  truly.  Xo,  gentlemen ;  through  my  bene 
ficent  instrumentality,  the  ends  of  justice,  impartial  and 
exacting,  have  been  satisfied.  You  thought  to  swindle  me, 
but  you  yourselves  have  been  victimized,  and  mv  turkey- 
friend,  who  believed  he  was  about  to  pluck  a  barnyard- 
fowl,  as  he  did  Volney  Slade  the  other  day,  was  himself 
surreptitiously  relieved  of  forty  genuine  dollars.  Doubt 
less  ere  this  our  turkey-friend  is  examining  that  parental 
gift,  so  redolent  of  new-mown  hay,  with  the  philosophical 
reflection  that  '  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard.' — Ha, 
ha,  Spike !"  addressing  the  bird,  who  was  knowingly  blink 
ing  up  at  him  ;  "  I  see  bv  your  complimentary  wink  that 
you  comprehend  the  situation.  Yes,  Spike,  we  have  al 
ready  shown  our  ability  to  cope  successfully  with  the  com- 


WILLIAM  DIBBS  FINDS  A    CLEW.  373 

mercial  in-egularities  of  the  metropolis.  But  these  forty 
dollars  thus  deviously  obtained,  though  in  the  cause  of 
retributive  justice,  I  shall  bestow  upon  the  first  poor 
woman  I  meet,  and  thus,  Spike,  shall  I  make  defeated 
villainy  serve  a  noble  purpose — namely,  the  relief  of 
wretched  poverty's  oft-despised  call. 

"  But  now  to  more  important  business,"  suddenly  grow 
ing  serious  and  taking  from  his  pocket-book  a  little  slip 
of  printed  paper.  "There  is  much  to  be  accomplished 
to-day.  Large  demands  will  be  made  on  my  cerebral 
activity.  Well,  let  that  transaction  which  is  most  im 
portant  lead  the  van  of  mine  endeavor.  First  allow  me 
to  observe"  that  no  proverb  has  been  more  successfully 
proved  by  mankind  than  that  one  feathered  songster, 
secure'  in  a  person's  five  digits,  is  better  than  two  such 
inhabitants  of  the  air  hopping  on  a  diminutive  tree. 
Guided  by  this  proverbial  truth,  I  shall  first  secure  pos 
session  of  this  desirable  saloon.  This  having  been  effected, 
I  shall  immediately  commence  a  series  of  investigations 
which  will  undoubtedly  reveal  the  whereabouts  of  the 
miser  as  well  as  the  hiding-place  of  that  midnight  ma 
rauder,  Seth  Slacle." 

Settling  his  roving,  watchful  eyes  for  a  moment  upon 
the  slip  he  held  in  his  hand,  he  read  it  half  aloud,  com 
menting  as  he  went  along : 

"'For  sale.  The  best  drinking-corner  in  the  city.'  A 
corner  is  a  most  desirable  location  for  an  imbibing  establish 
ment.  A  corner  is  conspicuous,  accessible  and  inviting. 
Even  an  individual  already  saturated  with  the  elevating 
fluid  finds  it  extremely  difficult  to  successfully  resist  the 
fascinating  beckonings  of  a  corner.  Swinging  irresolutely 
on  the  irregular  periphery  of  his  intoxicated  locomotion, 
he  comes  to  a  sudden  standstill  on  a  corner.  Then,  with 
a  firmer  tread,  he  pushes  through  the  hospitable  door  in 
search  of  his  final  potation.  Yes,  a  corner  appeals  strongly 
to  my  comprehensive  judgment.  For  without  a  proper 
location  one's  business  cannot  expand  to  its  most  desirable 
dimensions.  '  A  large  and  paying  custom.'  '  Large  !'  That 
is  susceptible  of  various  interpretations,  truthful  and  other 
wise.  'Paying!'  That  is  a  good  word  of  most  excellent 
meaning.  It  has  the  ring  of  true  financial  success.  Of 

32 


374  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

what  avail  is  even  a  large  custom  in  the  accumulation  of 
wealth,  unless  it  be  a  paying  one?  Xo,  William  my  boy, 
a  man  of  large  credits  has  small  hopes,  and  smaller  pros 
pects.  c  Will  be  sold  cheap  to  a  quick  and  cash  buyer.' 
A  bargain  of  t\vo  terms,  the  latter  of  which  I  can  readily 
fulfill,  but  of  the  first  I  reserve  to  myself  the  sole  judg 
ment.  Cheapness  is  a  relative  term,  based  solely  upon 
personal  considerations.  '  Immediate  possession.  Apply 
at  Golden  Bowl, street,  Philadelphia.' 

"  I  shall  instantly  change  that  decidedly  plebeian  name," 
said  Dibbs,  preparing  to  leave  the  Square.  "It  savors  not 
of  a  prudent  respectability.  It  is  too  suggestive  of  inordi 
nate  imbibitions.  Customers  do  not  want  reminders  of  their 
little  irregularities  flaunted  continually  before  their  vision. 
Moreover,  outward  concealment  of  the  true  character  of 
men's  haunts  is  most  desirable  for  matrimonial  happiness. 
Xo  !  The  exterior  of  William  Dibbs'  establishment  shall 
be  so  devoid  of  all  suspicion  of  revelry  that  no  Argus- 
eved  wife  can  penetrate  its  mysteries  or  proclaim  with 
clarion  voice  the  methods  of  its  business." 

Thus  revolving  the  subject  in  his  mind,  and  deciding 
on  several  details  which  he  would  adopt  in  the  manage 
ment  of  his  projected  undertaking,  he  hastened  on  his  way. 
Avoiding,  as  before,  every  main  thoroughfare,  and  occa 
sionally  casting  a  cautious  glance  behind  him,  he  came 
at  last  in  sight  of  the  Golden  Bowl. 

As  the  advertisement  had  stated,  this  establishment  stood 
on  a  corner.  It  was  a  one-story  brick  structure,  the  corner 
cut  oft'  by  the  generous  entrance  of  swinging  dottble  doors. 
There  were  no  windows  at  the  side,  but  in  front  was  a  large 
bulk-window,  its  wood- work  painted  brilliantly  in  red. 
In  the  centre  of  this  window  was  the  figure  of  a  huge 
golden  bowl,  the  steam  from  whose  hidden  decoction  was 
issuing  in  a  dense  cloud,  that  rose  above  it  in  a  perpendic 
ular  line  to  the  height  of  several  feet.  On  the  apex  of 
this  cloud  two  Cupids  were  sportively  reaching  after  a  con 
cave  line  of  golden  letters  above  them  that  spelled  "The 
Golden  Bowl."  The  remaining  surface  of  the  window  was 
filled  with  various  glaringly-illuminated  cards,  setting 
forth  both  the  variety  and  desirability  of  the  beverages 
and  viands  to  be  found  in  the  inner  precincts. 


WILLIAM  DIBBS  FINDS  A   CLEW.  375 

With  the  prudence  that  was  a  natural  reflex  of  his  busi 
ness  sagacity,  Dibbs  entered  a  neighboring  grocery  bearing 
a  dull  look  upon  his  face.  He  inquired  of  a  stalwart, 
healthy  and  exceedingly  vivacious  female  who  stood  be 
hind  the  counter  whether  she  could  tell  him  why  the 
Golden  Bowl  was  for  sale. 

"  Of  course  I  can  ;  and  I  ain't  afraid  to,  neither,"  re 
sponded  the  woman  with  energy,  shaking  her  fist  in  the 
direction  of  the  saloon  with  an  exultant  motion.  "  The 
perl  ice  is  after  that  place  red  hot.  Billy  the  Cleaver,  as 
he  calls  himself,  has  got  to  leave  these  parts  right  awav, 
or  be  jugged.  That's  what's  the  matter.  I'm  mighty 
glad  he's  'got  to  the  end  of  his  rope,  though.  Such  go 
ings-on  as  there's  been  in  that  saloon  lately  is  enough  to 
ruin  'this  neighborhood.  Men  has  been  drugged  and 
robbed,  and  there's  a  fight  going  on  'most  every  night, 
and  the  poor  mill-hands  is  drinking  up  every  cent  of  their 
savings.  Young  man,"  leaning  on  the  counter  and  look 
ing  at  Dibbs  with  a  face  as  solemn  as  her  voice,  "  rum  is 
an  awful  cuss.  It's  the  cause  of  most  of  the  trouble 
people  has  in  this  world — " 

"  Madam,"  interrupted  Dibbs  with  a  respectful  incli 
nation  of  his  head,  while  his  face  was  illumined  with  a 
bland,  sympathetic  smile,  "  theory  and  fact  respond  alike 
to  the  truth  of  your  eloquent  sentiments.  The  continued 
and  inordinate  gratification  of  any  appetite  invariably  de 
grades  our  moral  nature,  exhausts  our  physical  vigor,  and 
eventually  inevitably  submerges  our  domestic  joys  in  a 
cataclysm  of  irretrievable  destruction.  It  is  impossible  to 
reconcile  health,  prosperity  and  happiness  with  intemper 
ance.  Here,  most  comprehensive  female,  allow  me  to  thank 
you  for  your  valuable  information  as  well  as  for  your 
moral  reflections." 

With  a  profound  bow  at  the  staring  and  wondering  face 
of  the  woman  he  hastily  withdrew.  Before  she  caught 
sight  of  him  again,  although  she  had  leaped  the  counter 
and  run  to  the  door,  he  had  disappeared  within  the  Golden 
Bowl.  Here,  setting  his  valise  and  cage  upon  the  sanded 
floor,  he  walked  with  a  slouching  motion  np  to  the  bar,  be 
hind  which  were  two  persons,  a  man  and  a  boy.  The  boy's 
lace  was  fresh,  keen  and  active.  With  the  agility  of  one 


376  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

of  his  age,  he  was  cleaning  glasses,  polishing  decanters 
and  bottles,  and  deftly  arranging  them  upon  the  shelves 
behind  him.  His  eyes  were  all  the  while  scanning  the 
new-comer,  who  by  this  time  had  ordered  a  lemonade  and 
was  silently  and  with  a  knowing  look  sucking  the  same 
through  a  straw. 

The  man  was  short,  thickset  and  muscular.  His  round, 
brutal  head  with  cropped  hair  stood  up  defiantly  upon 
square,  massive  shoulders.  His  strong  neck  was  bare,  his 
collarless  shirt  displaying  every  portion  of  its  sinewy 
surface.  His  rolled-up  sleeves  revealed  arms  that  were 
swelled  and  knotted  with  excessively-developed  muscles, 
while  his  broad  chest  gave  evidence  of  vigorous  vital 
powers.  Fixing  his  small  vicious,  bloodshot  eyes  on  his 
silent  customer,  whom  he  detected  taking  roving  glances 
around  the  room  over  his  glass  of  lemonade,  he  asked,  in  a 
menacing  voice, 

"  What's  your  business  here,  any  how  ?  You  didn't 
come  in  just  to  get  a  lemonade.  Now,  mind,"  bring 
ing  his  fist  down  on  the  bar  with  a  blow  that  made  Dibbs' 
empty  glass  dance,  "  if  you're  playin'  the  detective  on  me, 
you'll  go  out  of  that  door  with  the  biggest  mansard  roof 
on  your  head  you  ever  had  !" 

"  A  superstructure  of  that  character  would  not  be  de 
sirable  for  my  anatomical  perfection,"  replied  Dibbs 
with  a  quiet  smile  as  he  laid  a  ten-cent  note  down  on  the 
counter  in  payment  for  the  beverage.  "  The  object  of  my 
appearance  can  soon  be  made  apparent.  Have  I  the  honor, 
as  well  as  the  pleasure,  of  addressing  the  proprietor  of 
this  establishment,  familiarly  known  in  this  locality  as 
Billy  the  Cleaver?" 

"  That's  me,"  was  the  bold  reply  as  the  man  squared 
himself.  "What  do  you  want?" 

"  Simply  to  investigate  the  surroundings  with  a  view 
to  purchase — " 

"  He's  the  man  that  sent  the  telegraph,"  interrupted 
the  boy,  whispering  in  the  man's  ear. 

"Correct,  my  comprehensive  lad,"  resumed  Dibbs  with 
a  complimentary  nod  to  the  youth  ;  then,  addressing  the 
man  :  "  I  am  Mr.  William  Dibbs,  the  author  of  the  tele 
graphic  communication  you  received  yesterday." 


WILLIAM  DIBBS  FINDS  A   CLEW.  377 

"Eh?  Well,  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Dibbs !"  ex 
claimed  the  Cleaver  with  a  conciliatory  laugh,  reaching 
over  the  bar  and  catching  Dibbs'  hand  in  a  grip  that 
made  him  wince  with  pain.  "That's  a  bunch  of  fives 
that  never  yet  went  back  on  a  gentleman.  So  you've 
come  to  buy  me  out,  have  you  ?  All  right !  If  you're 
in  dead  earnest,  it's  a  business  we  can  soon  settle,"  coming 
from  behind  the  bar.  "  Look  around  for  yourself,  and 
make  me  an  offer.  If  it  comes  near  my  figure,  the  ranche 
is  yours." 

"  Not  much  stock  on  hand,"  commented  Dibbs,  coming 
down  to  simple  phraseology  and  taking  on  an  air  of  busi 
ness  as  he  "went  behind  the  bar  and  more  closely  surveyed 
the  shelves.  "  Good  many  empty  bottles.  Make  a  fine 
show/ though.  Demijohns  not  very  full,"  touching  with 
his  foot  several  of  these  articles  stowed  under  the  counter. 
"  What  have  you  got  in  the  cellar?" 

"  A  keg  of  ale  and  a  barrel  of  whiskey,"  replied  the 
man,  slyly  winking  at  the  boy.  "No  use  of  carrying  a 
big  stock." 

"  Both  full  ?"  asked  Dibbs,  his  back  turned,  and  appar 
ently  engaged  in  examining  the  large  mirror  that  hung 
behind  the  bar ;  yet  by  the  aid  of  this  glass  his  eyes  were 
all  the  while  covertly  fixed  on  the  man  and  the  boy. 

"  Yes ;  they  haven't  been  touched  yet,"  answered  the 
Cleaver  with  a  threatening  look  at  the  boy. 

"  Yes,  they're  full,"  quickly  spoke  up  the  lad. 

"  Pretty  good  looking-glass — a  wide  mark  for  a  beer- 
mug,"  said  Dibbs,  coming  again  in  front  of  the  bar. 

He  slowly  made  a  circuit  of  the  room,  glancing  at  the 
pictures  on  the  walls  and  counting  the  tables  and  chairs 
ranged  on  both  sides,  which,  with  several  spittoons,  com 
pleted  the  furnishing  of  the  apartment. 

"Ah !  what's  this?"  opening  a  door  in  the  rear,  which  dis 
closed  a  small  room  partitioned  off  from  the  main  saloon. 

"  That's  for  gentlemen  customers,  where  they  can  have 
a  quiet  little  game  and  a  social  glass.  We've  lots  of  them 
sly  customers. — Eh,  Lanty  ?"  said  the  Cleaver,  scowling 
at  the  lad. 

"Yes;  lots  of 'em,"  instantly  echoed  the  youth. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I've  looked  around  enough,"  drawled 

32* 


378  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

Dibbs,  leisurely  seating  himself  on  one  of  the  tables  and 
turning  upon  the  man  a  very  indifferent  face.  "Suppose 
we  come  down  to  dots  and  talk  business.  I've  got  to 
give  the  refusal  of  several  other  places  in  less  than  an 
hour.  I  don't  think,"  he  went  on,  reflectively  watching 
his  slowly-swinging  legs,  "  that  I  like  the  situation  of 
any  of  them  much  better  than  that  of  this  place,  but 
their  stocks  are  a  great  deal  larger  and  they  are  for  sale 
very  cheap,  which  is  a  good  thing  for  my  small  amount 
of  cash.  What's  the  rent  of  this  place?"  addressing  the 
man,  who  was  already  eyeing  him  with  a  disappointed 
expression. 

"Only  thirty  dollars  a  month." 

"  Whew  !  A  big  rent  for  these  hard  times.  Landlord 
must  be  a  shark.  Why,  I  just  saw  a  saloon  a  little  larger 
than  this  which  rented  for  twenty-five  dollars." 

"  Must  have  been  a  mighty  mean  neighborhood,  then," 
rejoined  the  Cleaver  with  a  trifle  of  surliness. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  responded  Dibbs  with  a  conciliatory  nod. 
"How  long  a  time  before  your  lease  runs  out?" 

"  Two  years." 

"Can  you  sub-let?" 

"  Yes.     Here's  the  lease  ;  read  it  yourself." 

Dibbs  carefully  read  the  paper,  and  handed  it  back  with 
the  comment, 

"  I  see  no  security  is  required." 

"  No;  the  landlord  is  a  square  man." 

"  Humph !"  laughed  Dibbs.  "  At  thirty  dollars  a 
month  he  ought  to  be  able  to  square  the  circle.  Well, 
what's  your  price  for  good-will,  fixtures,  stock  and  the 
uncxpired  term  of  the  lease?  Now,  name  the  very  lowest 
sum  you'll  take,  for,"  drawing  out  his  watch  and  look 
ing  anxiously  at  it,  "  I  haven't  a  minute  to  spare  in  beat 
ing  you  down  a  dollar." 

"  Well,  seeing  1  want  to  sell  right  away  and  you  don't 
seem  to  be  loaded  with  greenbacks,  give  me  five  hundred 
dollars  in  cash,  and  the  place  is  yours,"  replied  his  com 
panion  after  a  hesitating  pause,  during  which  he  seemed 
to  be  reluctantly  throwing  off  quite  a  sum  from  the  orig 
inal  price  he  intended  to  ask. 

Dibbs  threw  up  his  hands  and  suddenly  lost  his  balance 


WILLIAM  DIBBS  FINDS  A   CLEW.  379 

when  this  sum  was  named.  He  came  near  falling  upon 
the  floor,  but  by  an  extraordinary  effort  regained  his 
equilibrium. 

"  Whew!"  he  exclaimed,  his  eyes  starting  with  astonish 
ment.  "You  didn't  hit  me  in  the  face;  did  you?  Take 
me  for  a  noodle,  but  you  can  knock  me  clean  over  with  a 
feather  now !  Five  hundred  dollars !  Why,  my  dear 
friend,  you  do  not  know  me.  I  have  not  been  the 
president  of  a  trust  company  or  the  cashier  of  a  bank." 

"How  much  cash  have  you  got,  anyhow?"  impatiently 
asked  the  man,  beginning  to  watch  the  window  nervously 
in  response  to  a  secret  signal  from  the  boy. 

"  Only  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  that  takes 
my  last  red,"  replied  Dibbs,  dejectedly  shaking  his  head, 
while  his  keen  eyes  were  watching  the  man  and  the  boy 
and  the  two  figures  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  with 
hidden  glances. 

"  Well,  luck's  running  against  me  now.  So  spill  out 
your  cash  :  the  place  is  yours.  There's  the  lease  !"  tossing 
him  the  paper. 

The  man  had  been  hurriedly  putting  on  his  coat  and 
otherwise  preparing  himself  for  the  street  while  speaking, 
not  omitting  to  place  a  revolver  in  his  hip-pocket  with  a 
menacing  look  toward  the  opposite  sidewalk,  where  two 
men  stood  watching  the  saloon. 

Dibbs,  equally  as  active,  in  the  mean  time  procured  pen 
and  ink  from  Lanty.  He  rapidly  wrote  a  transfer  of  the 
lease  on  the  back  of  the  document,  and  slowly  turning  to 
the  man,  who  was  all  impatience,  said, 

"My  friend,  your  sign-manual  appended  to  this  in 
strument  will  be  necessary  to  consummate  our  business 
transaction." 

"  Here  !  give  me  your  money,"  said  the  other  fiercely 
as  he  rapidly  scrawled  something  like  a  name  on  the  paper 
and  shook  his  hand  in  Dibbs'  face.  "  You're  the  slowest 
go  I  ever  saw." 

"  I  declare  !"  drawled  Dibbs  as  he  slowly  emptied  each 
pocket  on  the  bar  and  began  counting  the  little  pile  of 
rolled  and  twisted  bills ;  "  I  haven't  got  as  much  as  I 
thought.  Take  me  for  a  noodle,  I've  been  robbed  !  A 
stranger,  and  they  took  me  in  !  I  say,  friend,"  address- 


380  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

ing  the  man,  who  was  already  seizing  the  money,  "you 
couldn't  take  an  even  hundred  for  the  place,  could 
you?" 

For  answer,  Billy  the  Cleaver  snatched  the  money  that 
lay  upon  the  counter  with  an  oath,  and  running  swiftly  to 
the  rear  of  the  saloon  as  quickly  disappeared  through  the 
back  window. 

"What's  the  matter  with  him?"  asked  Dibbs  of  the 
boy.  "Has  he  got  the  hydrophobia?'' 

"  See  those  fellows  over  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  ?" 
whispered  Lanty,  slyly  winking  toward  the  front  window, 
from  which  the  two  men  on  the  opposite  sidewalk  were 
plainly  visible.  "Well,  I  know  the  cut  of  their  jibs. 
They  are  detectives.  They  are  laying  for  Billy.  Got  a 
warrant  for  him,  I'll  bet,  and  were  afraid  to  serve  it. 
But  the  Cleaver  has  given  them  the  slip,  dead  sure,  this 
time.  Oh,  but  he  is  a  skipper  when  he  knows  the  cops 
want  him  !" 

"  By  '  cops '  do  I  rightly  apprehend  that  you  mean  the 
properly-instituted  officers  of  the  law,  commonly  known 
as  policemen?"  asked  Dibbs,  Avho  was  already  gazing 
around  with  a  look  of  proprietorship,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  a  cunning  smile  on  his  face  as  his  fingers 
caressed  two  small  rolls  of  bills  which  had  not  been 
produced  for  Billy  the  Cleaver. 

"  Whist !"  softly  whispered  Lanty.  "  I  believe  they 
are  going  to  try  it  on  now,"  as  the  two  men  slowly  sep 
arated,  one  crossing  the  street  and  the  other  going  toward 
the  rear  of  the  saloon.  "And  they  have  got  their  hands 
on  their  shooting-irons,  too." 

"Silence,  youth!  Let  me  receive  the  myrmidons  of 
the  law,"  exclaimed  Dibbs  with  a  lofty  flourish  of  his 
hand  as  he  strode  toward  the  door,  and  opening  it  wide 
admitted  the  astonished  officer  with  a  profound  bow. 

"  Cast  thine  astounded  eyes  in  whatever  direction  thou 
wilt,"  said  Dibbs  as  the  man  stood  still,  regarding  him 
with  a  dazed  look,  "they  shall  not  rest  upon  the  desired 
individual  of  thy  search.  Xor  can  thy  comrade,  who 
enters  yon  rear  window,  aid  thee  in  thy  fruitless  mission." 

"Who  are  you?"  at  length  asked  the  officer,  his  eyes 
roaming  quickly  around  the  place,  and  then  resting  with 


WILLIAM  DIBBS  FINDS  A    CLEW.  381 

a  puzzled  expression  upon  Dibbs,  whose  face  was  singu 
larly  peaceful  and  his  arms  folded  gently  upon  his 
breast. 

"  Officers,  gentlemen,  fellow-citizens/'  said  Dibbs  -\vith 
an  expansive  gesture  as  the  other  officer,  as  nonplussed  as 
liis  comrade,  came  forward  and  joined  them,  "  my  noble 
surname  is  Dibbs;  my  Christian  cognomen,  William. 
I  have  the  honor  to  be  the  proprietor  of  this  establish 
ment,  which  I  hope  you  have  entered  thus  unceremo 
niously  with  full  legal  authority  so  to  do.  Otherwise  I 
shall  consider  it  my  duty,  as  a  staunch  upholder  of  the 
legal  rights  of  society,  to  proceed  against  you  for  tres 
pass,  and"  to  seek  such  other  remedy  as  a  wise  and  benefi 
cent  law  may  afford  me." 

"Where's  Billy  the  Cleaver?"  demanded  one  of  the 
officers,  his  hand  laid  nervously  upon  the  hilt  of  his 
revolver,  which  projected  from  his  pocket.  "  He  was 
here  a  few  moments  ago.  We  saw  him  through  this  very 
window." 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  deny  your  assertion  or  to 
endeavor  to  persuade  you  to  forego  the  evidences  of  your 
own  senses  ;  but  that  you  saw  William  the  Separator  a 
few  moments  ago  in  this  particular  locality  is  no  reason 
that  he.  still  remains  hereabouts.  Action,  my  dear  sir,  is 
the  law  of  life,  and  exercise  is  necessary  to  health.  Wil 
liam  may  be  taking  his  constitutional  at  this  present  time. 
That  you  may  be  satisfied  the  aforesaid  William  has  at  all 
events  left  this  immediate  jurisdiction,  you  have  my  full 
permission  to  search  these  premises.  Advance!  Proceed 
whither  thou  wilt!" 

The  men  made  a  thorough  exploration  of  the  premises, 
especially  the  cellar,  and  finally  returned  to  Dibbs  with  the 
hope  of  eliciting  some  information  from  him  that  would 
put  them  on  the  track  of  the  fugitive.  All  their  attempts 
were  of  no  avail.  Dibbs  simply  reiterated  his  assertion 
of  proprietorship,  backing  it  up  with  free  and  copious 
drinks.  These  potations  effectually  closed  further  discus 
sion  on  the  part  of  the  officers,  and  after  a  while  they 
reluctantly  took  their  departure,  vowing  that  the  new 
proprietor  of  the  Golden  Bowl  was  a  scholar  and  a  gen 
tleman. 


382  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

It  might  have  been  an  hour  later.  The  handbill  and 
the  placards  had  been  removed  from  the  window ;  the  floor 
was  newly  sanded,  the  chairs  and  tables  in  order.  Already 
the  name  of  "  The  Golden  Bowl "  and  the  golden  bowl 
itself  had  been  scratched  from  the  glass  by  the  huge  jack- 
knife  of  William  Dibbs,  who  in  his  shirt-sleeves  was  work 
ing  these  changes  with  vigorous  alacrity. 

"  Now,  Spike  my  boy,"  he  said,  pausing  in  his  efforts 
and  winking  at  the  bird,  whose  cage  was  hung  behind  the 
bar,  "you  wait  till  to-morrow,  and  youMrill  see  an  attract 
ive  frontispiece  to  this  saloon — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  three  men,  who 
seated  themselves  at  one  of  the  tables  and  called  for  lager. 
They  were  evidently  so  engrossed  in  their  conversation 
that  they  did  not  notice  the  unfamiliar  personage  that 
waited  upon  them.  Placing  the  glasses  in  front  of  them, 
Dibbs  withdrew  without  catching  so  much  as  a  glance  of 
any  of  their  eyes. 

"  Professionals,"  whispered  Lanty,  who  came  in  at  this 
moment  and  joined  his  master  behind  the  bar.  "  Setting 
up  a  game." 

Dibbs'  countenance  was  a  marvel  of  innocence  as  he 
moved  indifferently  toward  the  end  of  the  counter,  where 
he  could  overhear  the  men.  While  apparently  engaged 
in  arranging  bottles  his  keen  ears  were  on  the  alert. 
Listening  thus  for  some  time,  he  heard  nothing  he  could 
understand,  except  the  fact  that  these  men  were  planning 
some  villainy.  At  last  words  fell  upon  his  hearing  that 
made  him  chuckle  away  down  to  the  end  of  his  boots. 

"  Yes,  Sladey  must  have  made  a  ten-strike  somewhere," 
said  one  of  the  men.  "  I  never  knew  him  to  be  so  flush." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  put  in  another.  "  Seth  Slade  has  had 
rough  luck  these  last  three  years.  Seems  as  if  fortune  is 
bound  to  sit  down  on  a  good-hearted  fellow.  I  say,  though, 
boys,  it's  right  clever  in  Sladey  to  set  out  that  treat  for  us 
down  at  the  Shades  to-morrow." 

"  Sladey  was  always  good  on  the  divide,"  spoke  up  the 
first  man.  "  I  recollect,  when  he  raised  that  cheque  on  old 
man  Adams  four  years  ago,  he  gave  the  boys  almost  every 
dollar  of  it  in  treats." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  that  raise.    It  was  beautifully  done," 


WILLIAM  DIBBS  FINDS  A   CLEW.  383 

laughed  the  third  man.  "  Sladey  said  then  there  was  luck 
in  the  name  Adams,  and  the  next  week  he  was  out  West, 
traveling  on  the  community  as  J.  Lawrence  Adams.  Yes, 
Sladey  is  a  trump  !  Give  him  a  fair  show,  and  I'll  bet  on 
him  every  time." 

"  Let's  drink  a  bumper  to  him  and  go,"  said  the  first 
speaker. 

As  the  glasses  were  refilled  by  Lanty  he  continued  in  a 
lower  voice,  "  Here's  to  Nature's  nobleman,  Seth  Slade 
and  J.  Lawrence  Adams,  one  and  indivisible,  now  and  for 
ever!  Eh,  boys?" 

The  toast  finished,  the  men  threw  their  score  on  the 
table  and  went  boisterously  out  into  the  street  through 
the  rear  entrance. 

"  Lanty,"  quickly  said  Dibbs,  catching  the  lad  by  the 
shoulder  as  the  men  disappeared,  "  do  you  know  where 
the  Shades  is?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  the  boy  with  a  droll  wink.  "  I 
keep  the  run  of  all  the  saloons.  There  will  be  a  chance 
for  me  to  buy  one  of  them  out  some  day.  But  not  any  of 
the  Shades  for  me,  if  you  please." 

"  Why  not?"  asked' Dibbs. 

"  Because  it's  a  hard  crowd  that  lays  around  there.  If 
any  of  them  go  for  you,  you  are  gone,  sure." 

"  Indeed  !"  muttered  Dibbs  to  himself,  turning  away 
and  beating  a  tattoo  on  the  bar  with  his  fingers.  "  Well, 
I  must  see  that  crowd  to-morrow  night  and  give  them  a 
little  surprise.  In  the  mean  time,  I  will  hunt  up  Grim- 
die.  If  he  comes  down  handsomely  with  a  reward,  Sladey 
shall  be  put  in  his  power;  if  not,  Sladey  shall  remain  in 
mine.  Eh,  Spike?"  While  he  was  thus  meditating,  his 
eye  caught  sight  of  a  young  female  standing  in  front  of 
the  window. 

"  Whew  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  that's  a  beautiful  specimen 
of  female  architecture.  Who  is  she,  Lanty  ?"  noticing  the 
telegraphic  signals  that  were  passing  between  the  lad  and 
the  girl. 

"  That's  Charity  Sterrit,  the  sweetest  girl  that  ever 
swung  on  a  back  gate,  I  vow." 

"She  is  a  beauty,  that's  a  fact,"  exclaimed  Dibbs,  starting 
toward  the  window  with  an  ogling  smile  at  the  damsel, 


384  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

who  turned  up  her  nose  at  him  in  response,  and  walked 
slowly  away.  "  I  have  seen  women  act  that  way  before/' 
said  DibbS;  returning  to  the  bar.  "  When  a  woman  turns 
up  her  nose  at  a  man,  it's  a  sure  sign  that  if  he  keeps  at 
her  long  enough  she  will  one  day  turn  up  her  lips  to  him. 
Eh,  Spike? — Lanty,  tell  that  beauteous  female  that  I 
await  the  pleasure  of  an  introduction  to  her." 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

CLOSING  SCENES— SCENE  FIKST. 

Q1 ITTING-KOOM  in  the  old  farm-house  at  Slowville. 
O  The  two  women  are  seated  by  the  fireplace,  one  in 
front,  the  other  by  the  chimney-jamb.  The  clock  strikes 
eight  as  an  easily-recognized  step  is  heard  coming  up  the 
walk.  After  a  sudden  and  heavy  knock  the  door  opens. 
Patrick  Doyle  enters,  his  face  brimming  over  with  smoth 
ered  laughter. 

"God  save  ye  kindly,  ladies!"  he  said,  pulling  off  his 
hat,  and  making  a  sweeping  bow  with  it.  "  Throth,  it's 
late  I  am  comin'  wid  the  phost-offis,  but  it's  dyin'  fur 
laughter  I  wur  this  long  time  at  the  village  beyant. 
Shure,  it's  the  moighty  sharp  lawyer  that  has  throuble 
now,  wid  the  widder  Boozer  afcher  him.  Indade,  it's 
thrashin'  owld  Craft  intirely  she  wor  this  afthernoon 
wid  her  own  umbrelly  in  his  own  offis.  Faix,  I'm 
towld  the  lawyer  ran  down  the  street  loike  a  fox,  wid 
her  fly  in'  afther  him  an'  latherin'  his  skull  wid  the 
broken  umbrelly-handle,  which,  be  the  token,  was  all 
that  was  left  in  the  powerful  fist  o'  her.  Oh,  be  the 
powers  !  it's  not  git-tin'  off  so  aisy  as  that  he'll  be  at  all, 
at  all.  She's  too  much  for  him,  wid  all  his  larnin'.  In 
dade  she  is  !  It's  marryin'  her  he'll  be  doin',  if  he  wants 
to  dhraw  a  paceful  breath  agin  this  side  o'  the  grave." 

"  Have  you  any  letters  for  us  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Gagger  a 
trifle  impatiently. 

"  Indade  have  I,"  he  replied  with  a  triumphant  smile, 


CLOSING   SCENES.  385 

pulling  two  letters  from  out  the  depths  of  his  pocket, 
"  and  here  they  are.  One  fur  ye,  Misthress  Gagger, 
and  one  fur  ye,  Misthress  Loyd,"  handing  an  epistle 
to  each. 

"  Yon  may  sit  in  the  other  room  until  we  retire  for 
the  night,  Patrick,"  said  Mrs.  Gagger,  motioning  him  in 
the  direction  of  the  kitchen. 

After  the  man  had  gone  into  the  adjoining  apartment 
and  closed  the  door,  the  women  lost  no  time  in  reading 
the  letters  and  discussing  their  contents.  The  one  to 
Mrs.  Gagger  ran  thus  : 

"DEAR  MADAM:  I  take  on  myself  the  entire  responsibility  of  writ 
ing  to  you  in  reference  to  your  husband,  Mr.  Silas  Gagger.  He  is  a 
lodger  in  ray  house,  and  has  been  quite  sick  ever  since  he  came  here. 
Yesterday  he  was  taken  seriously  ill.  The  doctor  says  he  may  recover 
and  he  may  not.  Just  no\v  your  husband  needs  the  kindest  care;  and 
while  I  am  doing  all  I  can  for  him,  I  know  it  is  not  what  his  wife  could 
do  were  she  here. 

"From  his  nephew  Silas,  who  is  an  old  boarder  of  mine,  I  have 
learned  your  direction.  I  write  to  you,  utterly  ignorant  of  what  has 
caused  your  husband's  temporary  separation  from  you.  My  object  is 
simply  to  let  you  know  how  very  sick  the  man  is  whom  you  one  day 
vowed  before  Heaven  you  would  love,  cherish  and  obey.  If  he  should 
die,  you  will  forgive  me  this  familiarity  ;  for  I  know  that  these  honest 
words  of  mine  must  bring  you  to  him.  Should  he  live,  let  us  hope  your 
coining  to  him  will  be  the  means  of  your  speedy  mutual  reconciliation. 

"  Yours,  very  respectfully, 

"  MRS.  STERRIT." 

The  letter  to  Aziel  was  this  : 

"  MY  DEAR,  DARLING  AZIEL  :  Oh,  I  am  so  happy  with  Volney 
He  makes  me  call  him  Volney,  but  it  is  very  hard  to  do  it,  he's  such  a 
great  big  man,  and  I  am  such  a  little  bit  of  a  woman.  Dear  me !  dear 
me !  I  can't  believe  I'm  married.  It  is  just  like  a  beautiful  dream.  My 
heart  sings  all  day  long.  I  wish  you  were  here  to  see  what  a  sweet  cosy 
room  we  have.  Mrs.  Joy — she  has  a  very  smart  boy,  named. Lanty — 
says  our  room  is  worth  a  great  deal  more  than  she  asks  Volney  to  pay 
for  it.  Isn't  she  very  kind  to  us?  Dear  good  soul !  I  hope  some  day 
very  soon  we  shall  be  able  to  pay  her  back  a  hundredfold. 

"  Dear  me  !  I  wish  I  could  work,  so  as  to  help  dear  Volney !  It  is  so 
very  hard  when  you  want  to  assist  those  you  love,  and  you  cannot  find 
any  way  of  doing  it.  Volney  says  my  love  is  enough  for  me  to  do  for 
him.  Isn't  he  a  sweet  boy  to  say  that  ? 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  very,  very  happy  !     Volney  loves  me  so !     And  he  sav 
that  in  a  few  days  I  shall  see  father  again.     Was  there  ever  sue1     a 
dear  Volney  ?     I  cry  every  time  Volney  comes  home  from  the  •  -ill,  I 
love  him  so. 

•' P.  S. — Oh,  dear  Aziel,  yesterday  I  had  to  stop  writ:  •  _;,  I  was  so 
frightened.  A  man  who  said  he  was  Keddie  Stitt  came  iu  see  me  while 


386  JS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPJIN. 

Volney  was  at  the  mill.  lie  told  me  there  was  a  big  strike  at  the  mill, 
and  Yolney  was  the  only  man  willing  to  work,  and  that  Volney  would 
be  in  very  great  danger  if  he  should  go  to  the  meeting  of  the  strikers 
next  Saturday  night. 

"Mr.  Stitt  said  that  he  liked  Volney  and  did  not  want  to  see  him 
hurt,  and  that  I  had  better  keep  him  away  from  the  meeting.  I  told 
Volney  this  when  he  came  home.  At  first  he  only  laughed,  and  then 
lie  looked  so  fierce  that  he  frightened  me.  He  said  he  would  go  to  the 
meeting  even  if  he  should  be  killed  at  it.  I  cried  and  begged,  but  it 
was  of  no  use.  Volney  said  it  was  his  duty  and  his  right  to  go  to  the 
meeting,  and  he  was  going.  • 

•'Oh  dear!  oh  dear!  what  shall  I  do?  Can't  you  come  right  away 
and  help  me  keep  Volney  from  going  to  that  meeting  ?  He  will  be 
killed — 1  know  he  will!  Oil  dear!  oh  dear!  I'm  so  excited  I  can't 
write  any  more.  Do  come,  dear  A/iel !  You  can  persuade  him  to  stay 
away  from  those  wicked,  cruel  men — I  know  you  can.  A  thousand 
sweet  kisses  for  you.  Your  ailectionate  friend, 

"  EMILY  CiitrxuLE  SI^ADE. 

"  P.  S. — Doesn't  that  name  look  funny?  Volney  says  it's  a  sweet 
name.  I  know  the  last  word  is.  But,  oh  dear  !  I'm  so  excited  about 
dear  Volney  !  You  will  come  to  us  right  away,  won't  you,  dear  ^Xancy  V" 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Gngger  as 
Aziel  finished  reading  this  letter  aloud. 

"  I  shall  go  to  Philadelphia  this  very  night,"  was  the 
quick  and  firm  reply.  "  And  you  ?'' 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  answer,"  said  the  other. 

"Will  you  be  advised  by  me?"  asked  Aziel,  a  serious 
look  upon  her  face. 

"  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  responded  Mrs.  Gagger 
with  a  weary  smile,  in  which  was  a  trifle  of  bitterness. 
"You  would  have  me  forgive  and  forget?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Aziel,  her  voice  full  of  emotion,  "  for 
give  raid  forget  before  the  grave,  perhaps,  makes  both 
impossible." 

The  train  that  sped  eastward  this  same  night  bore  among 
its  passengers  two  women — sad  faces,  both  of  them,  yet  on 
eaeli  there  now  and  then  flitted  a  ray  of  hope  like  a  rift 
of  sunshine  rippling  over  a  clouded  lake. 

CLOSING-   SCENES — SCENE   SECOND. 

Twilight  is  slowly  settling  upon  the  city.  Men,  women 
and  children  are  hurrying  hither  and  thither,  homeward 
bound.  Happy  homes  are  waiting  for  many  of  these 
toilers,  to  whom  the  sotting  sun  has  brought  the  hour  of 
rest ;  miserable  homes  shall  receive  the  tired  feet  of  others 


CLOSING  SCENES.  387 

— homes  in  which  resolution,  energy  and  virtue  have  all 
been  crushed  beneath  the  despair  of  a  poverty  that  had 
looked  everywhere  in  vain  for  help,  though  seeking  it 
with  prayers  and  tears.  Not  one  in  all  this  steady 
throng,  save  here  and  there  a  pitying  eye,  stops  to  look 
at  yonder  old  blind  man  and  his  dog  plodding  along 
their  weary  way.  Perhaps  one  who  knew  him  well  could 
have  recognized  Nicholas  Grundle,  despite  his  green  spec 
tacles,  his  torn  and  tattered  clothes,  his  weak,  shuffling 
gait,  and  the  trembling  hand  that  could  scarcely  hold  the 
chain  by  which  the  dog  was  leading  him.  But  certainly 
no  one  could  have  told  that  this  poor  mud-daubed  creature 
with  the  hanging  head  and  depressed  stub  of  a  tail  was 
Cassar.  Yet  so  it  was,  and  it  could  be  seen  on  a  nearer 
approach  that  something  of  the  old  spirit  was  still  gleam 
ing  in  his  eyes,  that  warily  scanned  each  side  of  the  street 
in  response  to  his  master's  muttered  commands. 

"Look  sharp,  Caesar !"  the  old  man  was  now  saying 
with  such  a  sudden  thrill  in  his  voice  that  the  dog's  ears 
instantly  stood  erect  and  the  stub  tail  vibrated  ominously. 
"  Yonder  he  comes  !  Yes,  yes,  Caesar !"  he  cried,  shaking 
the  white  rag  at  the  dog  and  gesticulating  in  the  direction 
of  a  man  in  the  distance,  who,  just  at  this  moment  recog 
nizing  the  strange  couple,  wheeled  and  took  to  flight. 

No  need  now  to  show  the  dog  the  Avhite  rag ;  no  need 
for  his  master  to  urge  Csesar  to  the  pursuit;  and  as  use 
less  also  was  it  for  the  man  to  seek  to  escape  by  flight, 
with  the  mastiff's  swiftly-leaping  feet  so  close  upon 
him. 

It  took  only  a  moment  for  the  whole  of  this  to  happen. 
The  fugitive,  casting  back  a  frightened  glance,  suddenly 
became  aware  of  the  extremity  of  his  danger.  He  stopped, 
turned  quickly  and  discharged  his  revolver  at  the  animal 
so  close  at  hand,  whose  frothy  lips  were  quivering  with 
rage,  and  whose  sharp  teeth  gleamed  like  a  wolf's  fangs 
out  of  his  grim  red  jaws. 

The  ball  sped  harmlessly  by  as  the  man  staggered  back 
with  a  look  of  horror,  and  a  roar  like  that  of  a  lion  came 
defiantly  from  Caesar's  cavernous  mouth,  and  his  eyes  were 
set  with  the  murderous  look  of  a  demon,  as  he  poised  him 
self  for  a  deadly  spring.  It  was  too  late  for  the  man  to 


388  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

fire  again — too  late,  indeed,  for  help  of  any  kind.  No 
hope  of  escape  now  from  the  fury  of  this  mastiff,  already 
at  the  very  feet  of  his  victim.  The  man  seemed  to  realize 
at  this  instant  his  awful  peril.  Dropping  the  weapon  from 
his  nerveless  grasp,  he  turned  his  head  aside  with  a  crv 
of  terror.  He  tried  to  cover  his  agonized  face  with  his 
hands,  but  they  fluttered  so  with  fear  that  they  concealed 
only  a  portion  of  his  features.  One  gasping  breath,  and 
he  stood  motionless  and  voiceless,  paralyzed  with  despair. 
In  another  second  there  was  a  short,  fierce  roar,  a  leap  in 
the  air,  and  the  horrified  spectators  sa\v  the  man  fall  upon 
the  sidewalk  with  the  mastiff's  fangs  buried  in  his  victim's 
throat.  A  frightened  cry  for  help  rang  out  on  all  sides 
from  fleeing  men  and  women.  But  no  one  dared  approach 
this  terrible  struggle  for  life.  The  man's  voice  gurgled 
into  a  deathly  silence  ;  the  dog's  growl  grew  fainter  and 
fainter  as  his  teeth  sunk  deeper  into  the  quivering  white 
flesh. 

Soon  there  came  on  the  spot  the  old  man,  not  trembling 
now,  nor  blind.  The  green  glasses  were  no  longer  on  his 
eves,  which  shone  with  vindictive  joy  as  he  leaned  over 
the  prostrate  form  and  rubbed  his  hands  with  what  seemed 
to  all  who  saw  him  a  fiendish  glee.  Now,  as  if  satisfied 
with  exultation  and  suddenly  fearful  of  his  victim's  death, 
he  called  to  the  dog  to  loosen  his  hold.  As  well  might 
he  have  told  the  powerless  man  to  free  himself  from  that 
deadly  grip.  Ca?sar  showed  no  sign  of  obedience,  but 
lay  motionless,  his  mouth  still  clasping  the  blood-stream 
ing  throat.  His  master,  exasperated  now,  struck  him  and 
kicked  him  and  spoke  to  him  in  tones  of  the  sharpest  com 
mand,  but  neither  blows  nor  kicks  nor  words  had  the 
slightest  power  to  move  the  dog  or  loosen  his  fatal  hold 
in  the  least.  At  last,  Grundle  with  an  oath  snatched 
up  the  revolver,  which  had  fallen  from  the  man's  hand, 
and  fired  at  the  dog.  The  ball  pierced  Ca?sar's  shoulder. 
With  a  cry  of  pain  he  let  go  his  grip  and  turned  toward 
his  master.  Then,  as  if  he  considered  that  such  a  cruel 
return  for  his  fidelity  absolved  him  from  further  fealty, 
he  slowly  turned  awav  with  a  growl  of  contempt  and 
strode  up  the  street,  disappearing  just  as  a  policeman 
came  upon  the  scene. 


CLOSING  SCENES.  389 

"Where  is  my  money?  Give  it  to  me!  Tell  me 
where  it  is!"  were  the  fiercely-spoken  words  of  the  old 
man,  whom  the  officer  found  kneeling  beside  the  pros 
trate  form  and  roughly  shaking  it. 

"  AYlu.t's  all  tin's?"  exclaimed  the  policeman,  thrusting 
Grundle  aside  and  examining  the  wounded  man.  "This 
is  a  rum  go.  Here!  bring  me  a  wheelbarrow.  We  must 
get  this  man  to  a  drug-store,  or  lie  will  bleed  to  death. 
Hurry  up,  some  of  you  loafers,"  addressing  the  men  who 
had  gathered  around,  "or  Sandy  Grill  will  put  a  couple 
of  you  in  the  lock-up  over-night  for  not  assisting  an  of 
ficer  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty." 

At  this. moment  there  was  a  stir  in  the  rear  of  the  awe 
struck,  silent  crowd.  A  little  woman  who  had  been  flut 
tering  wildly  around  the  outskirts  of  the  circle  now  pushed 
her  way  swiftly  through  the  group  that  surrounded  the 
policeman  and  Grundle  and  the  bleeding  man  who  lay  at 
their  feet.  Face  to  face  with  Nicholas  Grundle  came  Mrs. 
Sterrit.  A  wild  cry  rang  from  her  lips.  Her  face  grew 
ghastly  white  as  that  of  the  old  man,  who  shrank  away 
from  her  as  if  she  were  indeed  a  spectre.  He  put  out  his 
hands  with  a  wild  motion.  She  came  closer  and  closer; 
then,  clasping  her  hands,  cried  in  a  voice  that  thrilled 
every  heart, 

"Oh,  John  !  John  !     Do  you  not  know  me?" 

He  swayed  to  and  fro;  whiter  grew  his  face;  he  tried 
to  speak,  but  his  lips  muttered  words  unintelligible  as  the 
frightened  glance  of  his  eyes.  Then,  with  something  like 
a  groan,  lie  threw  up  his  arms,  and  would  have  fallen  had 
not  the  little  woman,  with  the  aid  of  the  sympathizing 
spectators,  caught  him  in  her  arms  and  pressed  him  to 
her  bosom.  But  as  she  looked  into  his  face  with  her  eyes 
so  blinded  with  tears  of  joy  that  she  could  scarcely  dis 
tinguish  his  features,  a  convulsive  shudder  passed  suddenly 
over  his  frame,  and  he  fell  motionless  at  her  feet.  Sandy 
Grill  hurried  away  with  the  wounded  man,  while  four 
men  bore  the  speechless  Nicholas  Grundle  into  the  home 
of  Mrs.  Sterrit.  The  little  woman  followed  close  beside 
the  silent  form  of  him  who  had  so  strangely  come  hack  to 
her,  holding  his  hand  firmly  and  lovingly  in  her  own. 
There  was  a  smile  of  mingled  joy  and  resignation  on  her 

S3* 


390  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

sweet  face  as  they  laid  him  down  upon  the  lounge  and 
the  doctor  said  to  her  that  lie  would  live,  bat  it  would  be 
many  days  before  he  would  recover  his  mind.  It  was  in 
deed  apparent,  from  the  vacant  look  and  silly  laugh  with 
which  the  old  man  was  now  looking  around  him,  that  his 
reason  had  left  him,  for  the  present  at  least. 

CLOSING    SCENES — SCENE    THIRD. 

It  was  Reddie  Stitt  who  was  speaking.  The  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  were  brightening  his  rough  features,  almost 
hiding  the  scowl  that  rested  upon  them.  He  was  leaning 
on  the  fence  in  front  of  Mrs.  Joy's  cottage,  talking  earn 
estly  to  a  woman  who  was  replying  as  emphatically  to 
him. 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  argue  the  matter,  Miss  Loyd,"  he 
was  saving;  "I  only  tell  von  what  I  know.  The  hands 

tf  O  f  •  * 

will  not  let  Volney  Slade  speak,  and  if  he  attempts  it  to 
night,  he  will  get  hurt,  and  badly  hurt.  It's  a  sorry 
thing  all  around  that  he  persisted  in  going  to  work  at 
the  mill.  It  only  made  matters  worse,  for  all  hands 
struck  then,  as  I  told  him  they  would.  It  is  strange  he 
cannot  see  how  his  coming  here  has  injured  our  cause." 

"  It  is  very  strange  that  you  people  cannot  let  a  man 
work  when,  where  and  for  what  he  chooses,"  she  replied, 
a  slight  sneer  in  her  even  voice.  "Capital  could  be 
guilty  of  no  greater  tyranny.  You  even  denv  oiie  of 
your  own  number  freedom  of  speech,  and  threaten  him 
with  bodily  harm  if  he  dares  to  tell  you  his  convic 
tions  as  to  right  and  wrong  in  this  controversy  be 
tween  capital  and  labor." 

"I  tell  yon  it  is  of  no  use  to  argue  the  question," 
stoutly  rejoined  the  man.  "The  world  is  as  it  is,  and 
we  must  take  it  so  until  it  becomes  better.  People  have 
their  opinions,  and  hold  to  them,  right  or  wrong.  I  tell 
you  the  hands  are-  down  on  Volney  for  coming  here. 
They  will  not  let  him  speak.  I  know  what  that  means; 
and  if  you  want  this  young  man  to  save  a  broken  skull, 
you  and  his  little  chit  of  a  wife  had  better  persuade  him 
to  stay  at  home  to-night.  I  come  and  tell  you  this  as  his 
friend.  I  like  his  pluck,  and  for  that  reason  feel  kind  to- 


CLOSING  SCENES.  391 

ward  him,  though  he  wouldn't  believe  me  if  I  should  swear 
it  to  him." 

"  There  he  comes,"  said  Aziel,  pointing  in  the  direction 
of  a  young  man.  walking  with  thoughtful,  downcast  air 
toward  them.  ''Suppose  you  tell  him,  Mr.  Stitt,  what 
you  have  l>eeii  saying  to  me.  I  am  sure  he  will  listen 
to  reason." 

"  No ;  not  from  me,"  answered  the  man  with  a  derisive 
smile,  moving  away;  "for  if  he  had  listened  to  me,  he 
would  not  to-day  be  the  only  hand  working  at  the  mill. 
Humph  !  as  if  he  was  the  only  one  among  us  that  knows 
what  is  right!" 

Ileddie-  Siitt,  with  a  contemptuous  fling  of  his  head, 
strode  slowly  away  toward  his  home. 

"  What !  you  here,  Aziel  ?"  was  the  young  man's  sur 
prised  greeting  as  the  woman  ran  to  meet  him. 

He  shook  her  hand  with  a  cordial  welcome  that  ban 
ished  the  hesitating,  doubtful  expression  from  her  face  as 
she  answered: 

"  Yes,  thank  Heaven,  I  am  here !  For,  Volney,  I  fear 
I  have  come  none  too  soon  to  warn  you  of  the  danger  you 
are  in." 

"  He  has  been  alarming  you,  I  see,"  said  Volney,  nod 
ding  at  the  retreating  form  of  Reddie  Stitt;  "but  do 
not  fear,  Aziel,  that  I  shall  ever  become  a  coward  or 
hesitate  to  speak  the  truth  because  there  is  danger  in  so 
doing." 

They  had  passed  through  the  gate.  A  girlish  form 
darted  from  the  door  of  the  cottage,  and  rushed  into  the 
young  man's  arms  with  a  little  cry  of  joy. 

"  1  cannot  wait  any  longer,"  murmured  Emily,  cling 
ing  closely  to  him,  her  bright,  loving  eyes  fixed  upon  his 
face.  "Aziel  made  me  promise  not  to  come  out  until  she 
had  talked  with  you  by  herself  a  little  while,  but  I  couldn't 
wait  another  minute  ;  could  I,  Volney  dear?" 

"Of  course  not,"  he  replied  with  a  laugh.  "I  should 
have  felt  very  much  disappointed  if  you  had  not  run  to 
meet  me." 

He  kissed  away  the  tears  of  unspeakable  jov  that  stole 
out  of  her  tender  eyes,  saying,  as  he  released  her  from  his 
arms, 


392  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"  Come,  let  us  go  into  the  house.  I  have  much  to  ask 
you,  Aziel,"  turning  to  her  eagerly  watching  them  with  a 
yearning  look,  "of  matters  and  things  at  Slowville — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  half-suppressed  scream  from 
Emily,  who  had  darted  into  the  street,  and  in  another  in 
stant  was  kneeling  on  the  ground  with  the  head  of  a  huge 
dog  held  fast  in  her  arms. 

"  It  is  Csesar — dear,  good  Caesar !  He  has  come  from 
father  !"  she  was  crying  hysterically  as  her  companions 
ran  to  her  side  and  immediately  recognized  the  mastiff. 
"See,  poor  fellow  !  he  is  hurt !"  she  said,  looking  sorrow 
fully  at  his  wounded  .shoulder,  covered  with  blood. 
"  But  you  know  me.  Don't  you,  dear  old  dog  ?"  she  went 
on,  nestling  her  cheek  upon  his  head,  as  he  whined  and 
licked- her  face  and  the  stub  tail  vigorously  wagged  with 

j°7- 

The    mastiff  seemed  in  the  midst   of   his  pleasure  to 

have  suddenly  bethought  himself  of  his  duty  ;  for  he 
instantly  ceased  all  demonstrations  of  joy,  sprang  from 
his  young  mistress'  arm,  and  with  bark  and  whine  and 
growl  ran  back  and  forth  in  the  direction  from  which  he 
had  first  come.  Then,  seizing  Emily's  dress,  he  pulled 
and  tugged  at  it,  and  in  his  own  way — as  intelligible  as 
any  language  of  man  could  have  been — begged  her  to 
come  with  him.  She  followed  him  with  swift,  eager  steps, 
knowing  full  well  that  he  was  leading  her  to  her  father. 
With  her  went  Volney  and  Aziel,  their  faces  as  troubled 
and  perplexed  as  that  of  the  girl  was  happy  and  radiant. 
She  felt  certain,  from  Cresar's  joyous  bark  as  he  looked 
back  at  her,  that  he  was  trying  to  tell  her  that  her  father 
was  alive  and  well.  The  dog  led  them  on  through 
street  and  alley  and  byway,  and  across  a  long  stretch  of 
vacant  land  that  intervened  between  this  suburb  and  the 
great  metropolis  that  lay  beyond  it.  At  last  they  cam« 
into  the  city  itself,  and  Caasar  still  walked  onward,  steadily, 
sturdily,  silently,  his  huge  body  swaying  from  side  to 
side,  his  feet  falling  upon  the  sidewalk  with  a  measured 
tread,  and  the  stub  tail  wagging  slowly  and  at  regular 
intervals. 

There  was  occasionally  something  of  a  merry  gleam  in 
the  dog's  eyes  despite  their  malicious  glare,  as  if,  forsooth, 


CLOSING  SCENES.  393 

lie  were  well  aware  of  the  great  surprise  he  had  in  store 
for  the  silent  group  who  were  following  him. 

"Hello!  what  all  this?"  asked  Sandy  Grill,  accosting 
the  little  party  as  they  halted  and  intently  watched  Cse- 
sar.  The  dog  was  running  his  nose  over  the  sidewalk, 
where  splotches  of  blood  were  still  visible,  barking  and 
whining,  and  looking  around  and  showing  the  greatest 
disappointment.  "Do  you  know  that  dog?"  continued 
the  officer,  addressing  Volney,  whom  he  had  as  yet  failed 
to  recognize. 

"  I  know  the  dog  as  well  as  I  know  you,  Mr.  Grill," 
said  the  young  man,  putting  out  his  hand,  which  the 
policeman  took  with  a  laugh  of  recognition. 

"  Oh  yes ;  you  are  the  boy  that  helped  a  countryman  to 
pay*  his  debt.  I  remember  it  all  now — valise  full  of  paper 
and  wood.  Took  you  to  station-house.  You  found  money 
in  your  pocket ;  put  there  by  your  old  nurse.  Rum  story, 
but  I  guess  it  was  true." 

"  Indeed  it  was  true.  Here  is  the  nurss  herself,  and 
also  my  wife. — Ladies,  Mr.  Sandy  Grill,  who  was  a  friend 
to  me  when  I  needed  a  friend." 

The  women  smiled  on  Sandy  Grill,  and  shook  his  hand 
and  thanked  him  so  sweetly  for  what  he  had  done  that  he 
blushed  redder  than  the  cardinal  necktie  he  wore  Sundays, 
and  vowed  to  them  that  he  was  paid  a  thousand  times  over 
for  what  little  he  had  done  that  night  for  Volney. 

"  Mr.  Grill,  can  you  tell  us  anything  about  an  old  man 
whom  this  dog  was  in  company  with  a  little  while  ago?" 
questioned  Volney  as  Cse.sar  began  darting  up  and  down 
the  street,  and  at  last  threw  himself  with  a  fierce  bark 
against  the  door  of  a  small  house  a  trifle  in  the  distance. 

"  Go  straight  to  that  house  where  you  now  see  the 
dog,  and  you  will  find  the  old  man.  Is  he  any  relation 
of  yours?" 

"No;  but  he  is  of  my  wife,"  replied  Volney,  pointing 
at  Emily,  who  had  already  swiftly  moved  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  house,  where  Caesar's  barking  grew  the 
louder. 

"  Well,  it's  the  strangest  go  I've  seen  since  I've  been  on 
the  force.  From  all  I  can  find  out,  the  old  man  was  walk 
ing  along  just  here,  with  his  dog  leading  him,  as  if  he  was 


394  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

blind.  All  of  a  sudden  the  dog  leaped  at  the  throat  of  a 
very  fine-looking  gentleman  and  thre\v  him  to  the  ground. 
Then  the  old  man  suddenly  took  off  his  screen  glasses  and 
hissed  on  the  dog.  He  talked  to  himself  as  if  he  was  be 
ing  revenged  on  the  man  who  was  being  bitten  to  death 
by  the  dog.  At  last  the  old  man  must  have  repented  of 
what  he  was  telling  the  dog  to  do,  so  he  tried  to  pull  the 
dog  off,  but  the  dog  not  being  willing  to  let  go  his  hold, 
the  old  man  shot  him,  and  the  dog  ran  away.  I  came  on 
hand  just  then.  And  while  I  was  trying  to  tie  up  the 
man's  throat — it  was  awfully  mangled — the  old  lady  that 
lives  in  that  house  yonder  where  the  dog  is  barking  came 
running  through  the  crowd,  and  as  soon  as  she  set  eyes  on 
the  old  man  she  knew  who  he  was,  and  he  was  so  scared 
at  seeing  her  that  he  dropped  in  her  arms  as  if  dead.  I 
just  came  from  the  house.  They  told  me  there  the  old 
man  has  gone  clean  crazy,  and  is  looking  out  of  his  eyes 
this  very  minute  with  as  much  sense  as  a  dead  mackerel." 

The  door  of  the  small  house  had  opened  while  he  was 
speaking.  The  dog  sprang  in  past  the  figure  of  the  little 
woman  on  the  threshold,  who,  as  she  saw  Emily,  threw  up 
her  hands  with  a  startled  cry,  and  then  tottered  back  out 
of  sight,  swiftly  followed  by  the  pursuing  form  of  the 
girl. 

"  Another  rum  go !"  exclaimed- Sandy  Grill  with  a  laugh. 
"Regular  theatre  round  here  now.  Emotional  and  sensa 
tional  drama  in  ibrty-'leven  acts.  Eh?" 

"  What  has  become  of  that  other  man?"  quickly  asked 
A/icl  of  the  policeman  as  Volney  darted  away  toward  the 
dwelling  into  which  Emily  had  so  strangely  disappeared. 
'•  Is  he  dangerously  hurt?''  she  managed  to  add,  though 
her  voice  was  very  unsteady  and  she  felt  a  deathly  faintness 
s  ealing  over  her  in  dread  of  the  officer's  replv. 

"Yes.  I  had  to  take  him  down  to  the  hospital,"  re 
plied  Grill,  looking  curiously  at  the  scared  face,  white  and 
partly  averted.  "  The  doctor  shook  his  head  when  he  saw 
him,  and  I  guess  he  will  have  to  pass  in  his  chips  this 
time,  certain.  Fine-looking  fellow,  though  ;  may  be  a 
gentleman,  though  he  has  the  gambler's  cut." 

"  Where  is  the  hospital  ?"  she  asked,  her  voice  fainter, 
though  her  heart  beat  violently  and  her  breath  came 


CLOSING  SCENES.  395 

and  went  in  heavier  and  thicker  volumes,  stifling  and 
slow. 

"St.  Joseph's.     I  will  show  you — " 

She  had  left  his  side  like  a  flash.  Before  he  could  re 
cover  from  his  surprise  she  had  darted  around  the  corner 
and  \vas  gone. 

"The  plot  thickens,"  said  Sandy  Grill.  "And  such 
being  the  case,  I  will  go  up  to  the  Golden  Bowl  be 
tween  the  acts  and  see  what  kind  of  a  spirit-mixer  that 
new  landlord  is." 

CLOSING   SCENES — SCEXE    FOURTH. 

"It  is  against  the  rules,"  the  young  physician  was  say 
ing,  "but  as  you  arc  so  near  a  relative  of  his,  I  cannot 
deny  your  request.  You  will  find  him  in  yonder  cot," 
pointing  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  long  line  of  beds. 
"You  must  be  careful  and  not  excite  him  or  let  him  talk 
too  much.  The  artery  is  badly  lacerated,  and  is  liable  to 
rupture  under  any  violent  or  unusual  exertion.  His  situ 
ation  is  precarious.  You  will  be  verv  cautious?" 

The  woman  shook  her  head  with  a  quick  affirmative 
gesture,  murmured  her  thanks,  and  went  swiftly  down  the 
hospital  ward,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  distant  bed  with  a 
mingled  expression  of  eagerness  and  fear.  As  she  ad 
vanced  nearer  to  it  she  laid  her  hand  upon  her  heart, 
and  stood  suddenly  still  with  a  gasp  of  half-suppressed 
agonv  ;  for  in  the  light  of  the  dimly-burning  gas  she 
saw  the  closed  and  sunken  eyes  of  him  she  knew  so  well, 
his  ashy,  bloodless  face  made  more  deadly  pale  by  his 
black  locks,  that  clustered  in  straying  curls  about  his 
cheeks  and  temples.  Entirely  covering  his  throat  was  a 
broad  white  bandage.  This,  with  his  pallid  hands  crossed 
upon  his  breast,  completed  the  semblance  of  death  that- 
had  at  first  sight  so  agitated  the  woman. 

Stifling  her  sobs  as  best  she  could,  she  drew  closer  to 
him  and  tried  to  speak  his  name  calmly.  But  how  could 
she  be  calm  with  him  dying,  doubtless^  before  her  very 
eyes?  Her  voice  came  in  a  little  despairing  cry  from  her 
lips,  that  quivered  beyond  control. 

"  You  here?"  he  said  so  composedly  that  for  an  instant 


396  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

a  faint  gleam  of  hope  crossed  the  dreadful  apprehension 
of  her  face.  "Ah,  Agnes,  I  knew  you  would  come. 
Something-  seemed  to  tell  me  you  would  soon  be  here." 

He  had  put  out  his  hand  gropingly  as  lie  called  her 
Agnes,  and  a  brighter,  though  softened,  light  shoue  in  his 
eyes.  His  cold  grasp  held  her  trembling  palm  close  to 
his  cheek,  while  his  gaze  fastened  itself  upon  her  face 
with  a  wan  smile  of  gratitude  and  recognition.  Over 
come  by  his  utterance  of  that  name  and  speechless  with 
grief  at  the  sight  of  his  deathly  appearance,  she  had 
fallen  upon  her  knees  beside  the  couch.  Weeping  bit 
terly,  she  was  stroking  the  hair  back  from  the  dam]), 
cold  forehead,  while  he  gentlv  and  tremulously  kissed 
the  hand  he  had  slowly  and  with  evident  effort  pressed 
to  his  lips. 

"Seth— " 

She  tried  to  talk  to  him,  to  tell  him  how  she  still  loved 
him  in  spite  of  all  he  had  done  to  make  her  hate  him — 
yes,  loved  him  now  far  more  even  than  when,  in  the  years 
long  since  past,  she  had  indeed  been  his  Agnes  and  loved 
him  with  all  the  abandon  of  young  love's  devotion. 
Though  she  could  not  speak  to  him,  so  great  was  her 
emotion,  her  lips  tenderly  pressed  his  forehead,  and  her 
eyes,  looking  so  vearningly  into  his.  told  him  of  her  deep, 
true  love  far  better  than  words  could  have  done.  A 
heavy  sigh  came  from  his  lips.  He  looked  into  her  face 
eagerly,  but  despair  and  remorse  followed  each  other  in 
slow  succession  across  his  features.  Again  there  came  to 
his  face  the  kindlv  smile  with  which  he  had  at  first 
greeted  her,  though  now  there  was  a  deeper  meaning  in 
it — a  suggestion  of  restitution — as  he  said,  with  calm 
ness, 

"  Agnes,  I  am  so  very  glad  you  have  come  to  me.  It  is 
very  late,  I  know,  for  me  to  try  to  undo  my  past  wicked- 
ne.-s  toward  you.  You  will  forgive  me  now,  when  I  speak 
to  you  from  the  very  brink  of  the  grave?" 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  half-articulate  cry  of  agony, 
and  besought  hin^not  to  speak  of  death. 

" Xo,  no,  no!"  she  went  on,  frantically  pressing  his 
hands  to  her  bosom  and  covering  his  white  lips  with 
kisses  and  scalding  tears,  "you  are  not  dying,  Seth  !  Xo, 


CLOSING  SCENES.  397 

no,  you  shall  not  die !  You  shall  get  well.  I  will  nurse 
you  day  and  night." 

JIc  gently  caressed  her  cheek  with  his  hand,  patting  it 
and  wiping  away  the  tears  falling  so  fast  from  her  eyes 
that  looked  down  upon  him  with  an  agony  of  yearning. 

"Ever  the  same  Agnes!"  he  said,  softly  drawing  her 
head  down  upon  the  pillow  beside  his  own — "so  full  of 
love  and  forgiveness!  Ah!  if  I  had  listened  to  you  in 
those  evil  days,  what  happiness  might  have  been  ours! 
Bnt  I  was  not  so  bad  as  you  thought  me,  Agnes — no,  not 
nearly  so  wicked  as  I  made  you  believe.  Listen,"  he  re 
sumed  with  something  of  his  old  air  of  triumph  lingering 
in  his  voice;  "you  must  strike  off  one  of  my  crimes  from 
your  catalogue  of  my  sins.  You  were  legally  married  to 
me',  Agnes,  in  that  little  old  country  church.  The  man 
who  performed  the  ceremony  was  a  genuine  minister,  and 
not  a  personation  by  one  of  my  friends,  as  I  told  yon  after 
ward  when  you  would  not  consent  to  iny  marriage  with 
the  heiress.  You  were  my  wife  then,  and,"  he  went  on,  a 
trifle  excitedly,  "you  are  my  wife  now.  Though  I  put 
you  away  from  me  with  a  lie,  and  married  that  woman  only 
to  hate  her,  you  have  been  my  legal  wife  ever  since  the  mo 
ment  we  left  that  little  church  so  very  happy.  Oh,  Ag 
nes!"  his  voice  growing  feebler  and  husky,  "you  will 
forgive  me?  Tell  me  that  I  leave  this  world  with  your 
forgiveness  and  blessing  following  me  into  that  unknown 
Beyond  whose  dark  shadow  seems  already  coming  over 
my  eves  !" 

"  Forgive  yon,  dear  Seth  ?"  She  wildly  threw  her  arms 
about  him  and  covered  his  ashen  face  with  kisses  that  her 
quivering  lips  could  scarcely  form.  "There  is  nothing 
for  me  to  forgive,  dear,  dear  Seth  !  You  always  loved 
me — you  were  always  kind  to  me.  It  was  not  you  that 
deserted  me,"  she  continued,  trying  to  force  a  tone  of 
smoothness  into  her  broken,  vibrating  voice.  "  It  was 
some  evil  spirit  that  took  you  from  me.  You  are  all 
mine  now;  you  have  come  back  to  me.  I  knew  you 
would.  We  shall  be  happv  now  together.  You  shall 
not  die.  We  will  go  far  away  where  we  can  live  at 
last  happy  only  in  ourselves  ;  and  our  son  Volney,  dear 
Seth,  shall  come  and  see  us,  and  we  will  tell  him  all, 


398  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

and  he  will  forgive  us  the  past  just  as  freely  as  I  forgive 
you,  my  own  clear  husband." 

"God  bless  you  for  those  words!"  he  murmured,  draw 
ing  her  eloser  to  him,  if  closer  she  could  be,  with  her  wet 
face  already  pressed  against  his  cheek.  "  My  heart  feels 
lighter  now.  Oh,  if  I  had  only  listened  to  you,  Agnes, 
in  those  days — in  those  days!  But  look!"  as  she  sud 
denly  raised  herself  and  bent  over  him  with  a  gaze  of 
startled  fear;  "how  dark  it  is  growing!  I  cannot  see 
your  face,  Agnes,  so  well  as  I  did.  Are  they  putting 
out  the  lights?" 

"You  must  not  die !"  she  gasped,  bending  still  lower 
and  gazing  with  speechless  agony  into  those  eyes  that 
steadily  looked  up  at  her  with  a  smile  that  grew  fainter 
and  fainter.  "  Seth,  dear  Seth,  speak  to  me  once  morel" 

She  spoke  in  a  hollow  whisper  that  brought  back  for 
an  instant  the  smile,  for  an  instant  the  look  of  gratitude 
in  his  half-closed  eyes,  that  slowly  opened  and  as  slowly 
sought  her  face  with  a  soft  sigh  escaping  his  lips.  His 
hand  fluttered  across  the  bed  as  if  in  search  of  something. 
"Give  me  your  hand,"  he  whispered.  "  Let  me  hold  it 
while  I  sleep."  He  took  the  hand  she  scarcely  had 
strength  enough  to  place  in  his  icy-cold  fingers  and 
pressed  it  to  nis  lips  with  a  long,  lingering  kiss.  Then, 
with  a  peaceful  smile,  he  laid  her  open  palm  beneath  his 
cheek,  looked  up  at  her  with  a  loving  glance,  and  wearily 
closed  his  eyes. 

"  It  is  very  dark,  dear  wife,"  she  heard  him  murmur 
ing  as  his  fingers  stiffened  about  her  hand,  held  so 
closely  to  his  cheek.  "  I  should  be  so  afraid  if  you  were 
not  with  me,  Agnes.  Keep  near  me,  darling.  It  is  so 
cold  and  dark.  But  I  hear  your  voice  calling  to  me, 
softly  speaking  my  name  in  the  darkness.  Ah  !  there  is 
your  loving  face  !"  as  she  pressed  her  last  passionate 
kisses  upon  his  lips  in  speechless  woe.  "Come  closer  to 
me,  Agnes.  It  grows  darker  still,  and  cold — so  very 
cold  !  Good-night,  dear  wife  !  Kiss  me  good-night ! 
I  am  tired.  I  must — sleep — now." 

Softer  and  softer  came  his  breath  ;  colder  grew  the  fin 
gers  clinging  to  the  woman's  hand  ;  fainter  was  the  smile 
upon  his  cheek.  Nor  was  it  at  all  like  the  evil  smile  of 


CLOSING  SCENES.  399 

old,  but  rather  like  that  of  a  child  sinking;  to  slumber 
with  its  mother's  voice  lulling  it  to  rest.  The  slightest 
tremor  stole  over  his  features.  Then  there  was  that  utter 
and  awful  stillness  about  him  that  told  not  of  sleep,  no 
matter  how  profound,  but  of  death — that  lasting  sleep  for 
the  awakening  from  which  love's  eager  watching  ever 
waits  in  vain. 

The  woman  made  no  outcry.  Throwing  herself  with  a 
frantic  motion  upon  the  bed,  she  put  her  arms  about  him 
and  laid  his  rigid  face  close  to  her  own  pallid  cheeks. 
Thus  holding  fast  to  him,  she  became  as  motionless  as  the 
dead  body  clasped  to  her  bosom.  Her  intense  mental 
suffering  found  no  expression  in  exclamations  or  gestures 
or  tears.  There  was  no  longer  either  stir  or  motion  in 
her*  form.  Rigid  and  lifeless  as  sculptured  marble  she 
lay  there,  her  hand  still  resting  in  his  cold  clasp,  her  lips 
so  close  to  his.  Not  even  on  her  marriage-day  had  this 
hand  been  given  to  him  with  so  much  sacrificing  and  en 
during  affection  as  it  now  lay  throbbing  with  unutterable 
longings  in  his  palm,  stretching  forth  its  last  grasp  from 
the  very  grave  itself.  Nor  had  her  bridal  kiss  ever  told 
him  of  love  like  this  with  which  she  pressed  his  dead  lips. 

O  woman,  how  enduring,  how  compassionate,  how  for 
giving,  thy  love  ! — type,  indeed,  of  that  divine  love  which 
the  ingratitude  of  man  has  no  power  to  destroy  ! 

CLOSING   SCENES — SCENE    FIFTH. 

Its  most  regular  and  devoted  customer  could  never 
have  recognized  the  Golden  Bowl  by  its  present  exterior. 
A  sudden  transformation  in  one  day  it  had  been,  arousing 
the  attention  and  curiosity  of  every  woman  and  child  in 
the  neighborhood,  while  the  men,  equally  alert,  were  los 
ing  no  time  in  gratifying  their  own  closer  iriquisitiveness, 
as  the  well-filled  saloon  had  all  day  testified.  The  wood 
work  of  bulkhead  and  window-sash  and  door  no  longer 
flared  in  red,  but  had  been  painted  a  pure  white,  relieved 
here  and  there  with  lines  and  tracings  of  gold.  Even  the 
red  lamp  over  the  door  had  been  removed  and  its  place 
supplied  by  one  of  blue  and  white  glass.  Nor  had  the 
blank  wall  oil  the  outside  been  neglected,  but  it  also  had 


400  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

been  covered  with  white  paint,  and  now  .shone  forth  with 
an  eminently  spotless  surface.  This  ne\v  stvle  of  saloon 
decoration  was  William  Bibbs'  individual  taste  —  the  re 
flex  of  what  he  termed  his  "  natural  innocence." 

In  response  to  the  remonstrance  of  the  boss  painter, 
who  stubbornly  argued  for  red  as  the  best  color  for  the 
purpose,  Dibbs  had  replied  in  his  own  inimitable  and 
voluble  manner  : 

"  Red,  didst  thon  say,  manipulator  of  the  slowly- 
moving  bunch  of  bristles?  To  alter  the  divine  William 
a  trifle, 

'  Red  is  the  color  of  blood, 
The  hue  of  lire  and  the  scowl  of  danger.' 

Nay  ;  rather  let  the  color  of  my  establishment  be  '  whiter 
than  new  snow  on  a  raven's  back,'  to  quote  correctly  the 
aforesaid  poet.  Ay,  white  is  the  emblem  of  purity  and 
innocence.  What  more  appropriate  color  in  which  to 
reflect  the  quality  of  my  liquors  or  the  character  of  my 
business?  So  proceed,  my  friend,  and  paint  this  visible 
space  as  white  as  an 

'Ethiopian's  tooth,  or  the  famed  snow 
That's  bolted  by  the  northern  blasts  twice  o'er.'" 

Striking  as  was  this  unusual  color  to  all  passers-by, 
they  were  more  astonished  by  the  singular  name  and 
lettering  upon  the  window  where  before  the  golden  bowl 
and  Cupids  had  been  the  attractive  decoration. 

Upon  the  window  was  now  drawn  the  following,  in  gold 
letters  shaded  with  soft  lines  of  black  : 


THE  WFSTKTIN  HEMISPHERICAL  IIou.v 

Sc  plus  ultra  poltil/i'iixj'iir  all  who  - 

[For  the  meaning  of  the  above  dash,  interrogate  the  sign  upon  the 
mural  surface  within.] 

Adding  greater  mystery  to  the  meaning  of  this  an 
nouncement  was  the  changed  and  singular  appearance  of 
the  inner  floor  of  the  window.  Here,  instead  of  an  array 
of  all  kinds  of  bottles  and  cigar-boxes  and  illuminated 
cards,  Mas  a  horticultural  and  aquaria!  display  very  cred 
itable  for  so  small  a  place.  In  the  centre  of  a  bed  of 
fresh  green  moss  stood  a  miniature  aquarium,  in  which 


CLOSING  SCENES.  401 

gold  and  silver  fish  dreamily  glided  or  flashed  their 
brilliant  colors  in  the  sparkling  sunlight,  while  floating 
Qii  a  chip  a  tiny  turtle  lay  basking  in  a  sunbeam.  Sur 
rounding  the  aquarium  was  a  circle  of  growing  flowers, 
all  in  bloom,  and  as  tastefully  arranged  in  form  and  color 
as  if  an  artist's  hand,  guided  by  an  artist's  eye,  had  placed 
them  there.  In  each  of  the  four  corners  stood  a  full 
blown  calla-lily,  while  all  over  the  white  blinds  that  shut 
out  all  sight  of  the  business  region  beyond  clambered  a 
luxuriant  vine.  Nor  on  entering  the  saloon  did  one 
find  the  interior  less  inviting  than  this  cheerful  window, 
so  suggestive  of  Nature's  happiest  moments  by  field  and 
brook  and  wood.  Here  everything  bristled  with  cleanli 
ness,  keen-eyed  and  scrupulous.  The  walls  had  been 
newly  papered,  the  wood-work  painted,  the  tables  and 
chairs  vigorously  scrubbed.  Even  Lanty's  face  and  rai 
ment  had  undergone  a  sudden  change.  In  clean  linen  and 
a  new  suit — a  present  from  his  new  boss — he  was  shining 
clear  as  the  glistening  of  the  bottles  and  glasses  and  the 
polish  of  the  large  mirror  behind  the  bar.  Just  in  the 
centre  of  this  mirror,  in  conspicuous  golden  letters,  were 
the  words  : 

Meaning  of  the  dash :  pay  for  them. 

After  a  few  moments  of  reflection  the  reader  would  add 
this  meaning  to  the  line  upon  the  window,  and  repeating 
to  himself,  "  Ne  plus  ultra  potations  for  all  who — pay  for 
them,"  would  call  it  a  good  joke,  and  invite  the  new  land 
lord  to  take  a  drink  in  honor  of  his  witticism.  Dibbs 
always  accepted  the  invitation,  pouring  out  his  own  drink 
from  a  decanter  which  he  kept  beneath  the  counter.  This 
decanter  held  a  liquid  which  he  said  was  the  only  whiskey 
he  could  drink.  It  was,  however,  a  mixture  of  molasses 
and  water  especially  prepared  by  Dibbs  for  his  own  use, 
in  order  that  he  might  find  no  difficulty  in  accepting  all 
offers  to  drink  at  the  expense  of  his  customers.  Did  any 
customer  ask  for  a  taste  of  this  peculiar  whiskey,  Dibbs 
cheerfully  assented.  Deftly  bringing  to  view  a  similar 
decanter,  which  he  always  kept  hidden  with  his  own  for 
such  an  emergency,  he  would  pour  out  the  same  whiskey 
his  customer  had  just  been  drinking. 

34*  2  A 


402  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

Spike  was  not  less  popular  than  his  master.  Hanging 
in  his  new  cage  from  the  ceiling  in  front  of  the  mirror, 
he  blinked  and  whistled  at  the  two  mottoes  that  adorned 
the  wall  on  each  side  of  him.  These  mottoes  were  as 
follows : 

"  Wine  that  mnketh  glad  the  heart  of  man." 

"  Drink  no  longer  water,  but  use  a  little  wine  for  thy  stomach's  sake, 
and  thine  often  infirmities." 

Notwithstanding  so  gross  a  misapplication  of  Scripture, 
Dibbs  was  at  this  moment  pointing  to  these  texts  with 
pride,  and  thus  addressing  his  patrons,  many  of  whom 
thought  the  quotations  were  from  Poor  Richard's  Almanac: 

"  Gentlemen,  those  are  verses  which  you  will  find  in  any 
Bible  you  may  be  able  to  borrow  from  your  friends.  I 
have  elevated  them  in  yonder  conspicuous  position,  not  so 
much  as  an  encouragement  to  your  temperate  potations, 
but  rather  as  a  withering  rebuke  to  that  portion  of  the 
community  who  defame  fructus  frumenti  optirnus  as  the 
enemy  of  man,  and  preach  total  abstinence  as  the  salva 
tion  of  the  world.  Banish  wine  from  the  world  !  No 
more  relief  for  the  feeble  stomach,  the  weary  brain,  the 
gloomy  mind,  the  saddened  heart,  the  quivering  nerves, 
the  feeble  muscles — " 

Dibbs'  oratory  was  here  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
a  group  of  angry-looking  men.  He  soon  learned  that 
they  were  a  committee  from  the  strikers  of  Marsh's  mill, 
and  that  they  were  returning  from  an  unsuccessful  inter 
view  with  their  employer  at  his  own  residence. 

"  Gentlemen,"  suddenly  cried  Dibbs  with  a  generous 
flourish  of  his  hand  and  a  smile  beaming  with  sympathy, 
"as  a  friend  of  the  workingman,  down-trodden,  oppressed 
and  enslaved,  with  the  iron  heel  of  capital  grinding  his 
neck  in  the  dust,  I  bid  you  welcome  to  the  Hora  Bibendi. 
Eat,  drink  and  be  merry.  Let  not  considerations  of  filthy 
lucre  restrain  your  appetites,  for  it  is  my  noble  pleasure 
that  you  mastic-ate  the  crackers  and  cheese  and  imbibe  the 
elevating  fluid  at  my  expense." 

This  invitation  was  at  first  received  with  curious  and 
hesitating  silence  ;  but  when  Lanty,  acting  somewhat  as  a 
short-hand  reporter  of  his  employer's  speech,  cried  out, 


CLOSING  SCENES.  403 

"  He  means  free  drinks  for  all.  Set  'em  up  !  What  shall 
it  be?"  the  crowd  broke  out  into  deafening  cheers,  and  a 
moment  later  were  silently  drinking  beer,  not  a  few  eyes 
among  the  group  fixed  admiringly  on  Dibbs. 

"  It's  plainly  to  be  seen  you  are  a  friend  of  the  laboring- 
man,"  said  one  of  the  men,  addressing  Dibbs.  "  We  are 
much  obliged  for  your  kindness,  and  will  not  forget  it. 
The  working-man,  sir,"  laying  his  hand  impressively  on 
his  breast,  "  has  a  heart  that  seldom  forgets  a  benefit,  and 
always  remembers  an  injury." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Dibbs,  looking  around  upon  the 
group  with  profound  admiration,  and  throwing  his  arm 
upward"  with  a  gesture  most  majestic,  "this  is  the  proud 
est  moment  of  my  life,  surrounded  as  I  am,  for  the  first 
time,  by  such  a  glorious  array  of  the  noblest  product  of 
animated  nature — the  workingman.  Ay,  in  your  most 
noble  countenances  I  see  the  personification  of  the  spirit 
of  Labor — that  spirit  to  which  the  world  owes  everything, 
its  plenty,  its  comfort,  its  elegance — ay,  its  very  existence. 
Yes,  my  noble  sons  of  toil,  it  is  Labor,  and  Labor  alone, 
that  has  made  the  world  what  it  is.  By  Labor  \vas  the 
universe  created,  with  its  millions  of  starry  worlds  and  its 
thousand  controlling  and  sustaining  laws  !  Not  only  was 
our  own  magnificent  planet  the  product  of  divine  labor, 
but  by  human  labor  only,  supplemented  by  divine  Provi 
dence,  has  it  been  able  to  make  the  slightest  progress  in 
science,  literature  and  arts — ay,  even  in  morals  and  phil 
osophy. 

"  Hail,  glorious,  godlike,  invincible  Labor!  Thou  hast 
built  the  world's  cities,  felled  its  forests,  navigated  its  rivers, 
opened  its  mines,  tunneled  its  mountains,  ploughed  its 
mighty  acres,  reaped  its  broad-spreading  harvests,  ribbed 
its  plains  and  valleys  with  bands  of  steel  that  carry  the 
swiftly-flying  train  that  annihilates  time  and  distance. 
Thou  hast  brought  continents  together  in  a  close  electric 
kiss  that  vibrates  beneath  the  seas — ay,  and  covered  the 
vast  ocean  itself  with  the  white  wings  of  commerce,  that 
shine  on  every  billow  and  gleam  even  now  on  the  far-off 
waves  of  the  polar  sea. 

"And  what,  may  I  ask  in  the  name  of  you  horny- 
handed,  rugged-faced  sons  of  toil,  has  Capital  done  for 


404  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

the  benefit  of  this  world  ?  What  has  bloated  and  lecher 
ous  and  vampire-sucking  Capital  done  to  make  this  world 
of  ours  one  whit  better  since  that  day  when  an  all-wise 
Creator  said  unto  our  antediluvian  progenitors,  '  In  the 
sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread'?  Ay,  for  what 
are  we  indebted  to  Capital  except  for  all  the  want  and 
misery  and  crime  in  the  world?  Has  not  thieving  and 
insatiable  Capital  built  our  prisons,  our  almshouses,  and 
insane  asylums,  where  it  could  pitilessly  thrust  its  victims 
out  of  sight?  Ay,  Capital,  with  its  steeled  heart  and 
bloody  hand,  has  ever  been  the  oppressor  of  the  poor, 
the  robber  of  the  widow,  the  despoiler  of  the  orphan. 
Not  content  with  the  cries  of  anguish  its  gigantic  and  op 
pressive  monopolies  have  wrung  from  the  parched  and 
hungry  lips  of  Labor,  it  has  forged  upon  the  noble 
working-man  of  America  the  fetters  of  a  bondage  worse 
than  slavery,  and  forces  even  the  sweat  of  death  from  the 
brovr  of  Labor — " 

Again  were  Dibbs'  forensic  efforts  interrupted,  this  time 
by  the  loud  applause  of  his  audience,  and  also  by  the  ap 
pearance  of  Sandv  Grill,  his  star  glittering  upon  his  breast 
and  his  baton  held  aloft  with  an  ominous  flourish.  The 
policeman  had  eagerly  seized  upon  the  present  uproar  to 
enter  the  saloon  and  exercise  his  authority,  which  he  did 
by  ordering  the  room  to  be  cleared. 

"Rather  too  much  noise,  landlord,"  said  Sandy  Grill  to 
Dibbs  when  they  were  alone,  for  Lanty  too  had  disap 
peared.  "  Neighbors  will  complain.  This  place,  you 
know,  has  had  a  bad  name  a  long  time.  I  hope  you  will 
do  a  quieter  business  than  Billy  the  Cleaver.  All!  I  see 
you  have  put  in  a  side  door,"  glancing  toward  this  new 
place  of  exit. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dibbs,  dextrously  mixing  a  most  enticing 
drink  and  extending  it  toward  the  policeman  ;  "  that  door 
is  like  some  people's  prayer-books — to  be  used  only  on 
Sunday.  But  here's  to  your  health,  most  worthy  bul 
wark  of  the  municipal  law  !"  touching  the  other's  glass 
with  his  own  and  smacking  his  lips  over  his  molasses  and 
water.  "May  our  acquaintance  ripen  into  friendship! 
Thou  and  thy  associates  of  the  locust  art  ever  welcome  to 
the  Hora  Bibeudi.  For  listen,  knight  of  the  silver  star; 


CLOSING  SCENES.  406 

the  laboring-man,  who  makes  the  laws,  and  the  police 
man,  who  executes  them,  are  noble  objects  of  admiration 
to  yours  truly.  Sir,  I  adore  the  merit  of  the  humbler 
classes.  I  sympathize  with  the  laboring-man  in  all  his 
many  trials.  To  him  are  my  heart  and  my  pocket-book 
alike  ready  and  open.  While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
the  Hora  Bibendi  shall  be  a  sure  and  pleasant  and  free 
refuge  for  him  whose  majestic  brow  is  covered  with  the 
sweat  of  daily,  honorable  and  ennobling  toil — " 

"  Where  are  the  cops  hiding  now  ?"  exclaimed  Lanty, 
who  made  a  sudden  reappearing  dive  through  the  door; 
with  eyes  dilated  with  excitement  and  holding  both  his 
hands  "aloft,  he  slid  across  the  sanded  floor. — "Mr.  Dibbs, 
the  most  awful  thing  has  just  happened  down  the  street! 
A'  dog  has  chawed  a  man's  head  right  off  at  the  neck, 
and  old  Mrs.  Sterrit  found  her  uncle  dead  in  the  street, 
and—" 

"Just  hold  up  there!"  interrupted  Sandy  Grill  with  a 
look  of  sublime  contempt  at  the  lad.  "I  was  an  eye-wit 
ness  of  that  affair,  and  you  tell  it  about  as  straight  as  one 
of  those  newspaper  reporters,  who  make  up  what  they 
don't  see."  Then,  turning  to  Dibbs,  he  continued:  "But 
it  was  the  rummest  go,  though,  I've  seen  since  I  was  on 
the  force.  I  didn't  see  the  beginning  of  it,  but  the  way 
that  bull-dog  made  mince-meat  of  the  man's  throat  sent 
the  cold  shivers  all  over  me.  Some  of  the  people  that 
stood  around  told  me  afterward  that  the  old  man  who 
owned  the  clog,  and  set  him  on,  accused  the  other  man 
of  having  robbed  him — " 

"  What  kind  of  a  dog  was  it?"  put  in  Dibbs,  his  voice 
betraying  no  more  than  ordinary  interest  in  the  affair,  al 
though  his  heart  beat  rapidly  under  the  excitement  of  his 
suspicions. 

"A  thickset,  white  dog  with  black  points,  cropped  ears 
and  a  stub  tail." 

"  What  sort  of  a  looking  man  was  it  the  dog  attacked?" 
still  further  questioned  Dibbs,  this  time  proffering  the  po 
liceman  a  cigar. 

"A  right  good-looking  fellow,  though  I  don't  believe 
he  ever  did  an  honest  day's  work,"  replied  Sandy  Grill 
between  his  puffs.  "  Guess  he  was  nimble  with  the  cards. 


406  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

Had  hands  like  a  woman's — long,  white  and  thin.  On 
one  of  his  fingers  was  the  oddest  ring  I  ever  saw — a 
little  snake  with  red  eye?." 

"What  became  of  this  man?"  asked  Dibbs,  with  diffi 
culty  steadying  his  voice.  "  Was  he  able  to  get  away  by 
himself?"" 

"Bless  you,  no!  When  I  raised  him  up  he  was  so 
weak  he  couldn't  have  run  a  race  with  a  turtle  if  it  was 
to  save  the  rest  of  his  neck.  We  took  him  down  to  St. 
Joseph's  hospital.  I  guess  he  will  make  his  last  deal  and 
find  spades  is  trumps  before  the  night  is  over." 

"  Hello  !  that  is  six  o'clock  \lj  exclaimed  Dibbs,  seizing 
his  hat,  as  a  neighboring  bell  struck  the  hour.  '  "I  must 
be  going.  Mv  landlady  insists  on  punctuality,  and  as  I 
am  a  new  boarder,  and  wish  to  make  a  good  impression 
upon  her,  I  shall  conform  strictly  to  her  rules.  Knight 
of  the  locust,"  waving  his  quick  adieu  to  the  policeman, 
"the  bar  is  at  your  disposal. — Lanty,  do  the  honors  in 
my  absence." 

In  another  instant  Dibbs  had  gone  out  and  slowly 
passed  the  front  window.  Then,  with  a  quickened  pace, 
he  sought  a  drug-store  near  at  hand.  Learning  here  the 
location  of  the  hospital  the  policeman  had  mentioned, 
Dibbs  directed  his  swift  footsteps  toward  it.  It  was  not 
long  before  his  rapid  pace  had  brought  him  to  the  place, 
where  he  soon  gained  admittance,  having  announced  hhn- 
self  as  the  brother  of  the  injured  man. 

"His  wife  is  a  little  ahead  of  you,"  said  the  young 
physician,  preceding  Dibbs  up  the  darkened  flight  of 
stairs  and  showing  him  ilito  the  faintly-lighted  ward, 
•where  were  the  long  rows  of  beds,  most  of  them  empty, 
save  a  few  at  the  lower  end.  "  Yes,  there  she  is.  I  can 
just  see  her  form  bending  over  his  cot.  You  will  oblige 
me  by  not  exciting  him,  and  I  think  your  sister-in-law 
had  better  soon  leave  her  husband  for  the  night." 

Dibbs,  nodding  assent  as  the  physician  turned  away, 
made  his  way  slowly  and  softly  down  the  corridor.  As  he 
came  nearer  he  recognized  who  the  woman  was  that 
leaned  over  this  bed.  A  single  glance  at  the  white  face 
on  the  pillow  was  all  he  took  as  he  drew  to  one  side  and 
concealed  himself  in  a  shadowed  recess  of  the  wall.  Here 


CLOSING  SCENES.  407 

lie  stood,  motionless  and  silent,  seeing  every  movement  of 
these  two  and  few  of  their  words  escaping  the  keenness  of 
his  hearing.  At  first  a  smile  of  triumph  had  played  across 
his  features  ;  but  as  he  saw  the  man  dying,  and  heard  his 
farewell  words,  and  noted  the  eagerness  with  which  the 
woman  clung  to  him,  Dibbs'  face  grew  more  solemn  and 
sympathetic,  and  as  he  turned  his  face  away  he  found  tears 
stealing  down  his  cheeks  despite  the  self-bantering  shrug 
of  his  shoulders.  When  his  eyes  were  clear  again,  and 
were  once  more  fastened  on  the  cot,  he  saw  with  a  little 
start  how  quiet  they  both  were,  lying  there  so  close  to 
gether.  Then  he  knew  the  Angel  of  Death  had  quickly 
passed,  that  way,  and  thai  he  and  the  spirit  of  the  man 
had  gone  hand  in  hand  into  the  infinite  Beyond. 

•  It  was  Dibbs'  quick  yet  firm  voice  that  roused  the 
woman  at  last,  and  made  her  give  utterance  to  a  long, 
weary  moan. 

"  Come,  Miss  Loyd,"  he  said,  gently  raising  her  from 
the  bed,  "  allow  me  to  extend  my  aid  and  sympathy. 
Excuse  my  abruptness,"  he  went  on  as  she  gazed  silently 
up  at  him  with  a  dazed  look  of  recognition,  "  but  you 
should  remember  now  that  you  have  a  duty  to  the  living. 
Your  son's  lawful  father  must  make  restitution  of  Nich 
olas  Grundle's  money  through  us.  It  will  not  do  to 
delay  this  one  moment.  Success  lies  in  instant  action." 

"Oh,  if  I  only  knew  where  to  find  the  money,  it  should 
be  given  back  to  him  this  very  night!"  she  cried  piteously, 
wringing  her  hands  and  bending  over  the  dead  face.  "If 
he  had  lived,  he  would  have  told  me. — Would  you  not, 
dear,  dear  Seth  ?"  she  went  on  hysterically,  patting  the 
pallid  cheek,  upon  which  still  rested  the  faint  smile  of  his 
parting. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  act  for  you  in  this  matter?"  asked 
Dibbs,  touching  the  woman  on  the  shoulder  with  a  kindly 
pressure  of  his  hand.  "  Have  I  your  authority  to  go  in 
search  of  that  property,  taking  whatever  steps  I  choose  to 
get  possession  of  it?" 

"  Do  go  and  find  it  for  me,"  she  said  imploringly ;  for 
as  she  turned  to  him  she  saw  by  his  countenance  that  he 
knew  where  the  property  was. 

"  Will  you  go  with  me,  or  stay  here  till  I  return?"  he 


408  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

asked   quickly,   o-lancinor  in  the  direction   of  the  vouno- 

*-    '       O  ti  O 

physician,  wlio  was  coming  toward  them. 

"I  will  stay  here,"  was  her  qniet  reply  as  she  slowly 
took  her  seat  by  the  bed,  and  with  a  stifled  groan  readied 
out  her  hands  toward  the  lifeless  one  and  laid  them  upon 
his  own  cold  palms,  folded  so  calmly  upon  his  breast. 

"  Remember,"  said  Dibbs,  whispering,  as  he  moved 
away,  "  not  only  that  you  are  this  man's  wife,  but  that 
his  name  is  J.  Lawrence  Adams  and  I  am  his  brother." 

"  How  is  the  patient  ?"  asked  the  physician  as  Dibbs 
passed  him. 

"  He's  climbed  the  golden  stair/'  was  the  blunt  and  odd 
reply. 

"Dead?"  exclaimed  the  other. 

"  Physic  could  make  him  no  deader,"  said  Dibbs  with 
a  trifle  of  a  smile.  "  I  wish  you  would  leave  my  sister 
alone  with  him  a  while.  I  will  return  presently,  and  am 
going  away  now  to  make  arrangements  as  to  the  disposi 
tion  of  the  body." 

The  physician  assented.  In  less  than  an  hour  Dibbs 
came  back  to  the  hospital.  Again  he  roused  the  woman 
by  the  bed.  She  started  with  a  little  cry  of  alarm,  for  it 
seemed  to  her  only  a  few  moments  ago  that  she  had  parted 
with  him. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "  I  found  his  lodgings,  and 
put  my  hands  upon  the  very  trunk  containing  the  miser's 
property.  It  is  safe  in  my  room  now.  Come!  let  us  go. 
I  have  given  the  body  of  our  friend  into  safe  and  tender 
keeping  for  the  night.  To-morrow  you  shall  see  him 
again.  But  before  any  one  else  knows  of  his  identity  you 
and  I  must  visit  that  little  copntry  church  and  verify  the 
story  he  told  you.  Then,  if  it  prove  true — as  I  feel  it 
must — you  can  claim  your  son  before  the  world." 

Dibbs  felt  how  these  last  words  made  her  tremble  as 
she  held  closely  to  his  arm,  but  he  said  no  more  on  the 
subject,  only  spoke  soothingly  to  her  as  she  sobbed  and 
cried,  groping  her  way  down  the  corridor,  stopping  more 
than  once  to  glance  back  at  the  motionless  form  on  the  cot. 


CLOSING  SCENES.  409 


CLOSING   SCENES — SCENE    LAST. 

Evening  in  the  sitting-room  of  a  substantial  cottage  in 
Blowville. 

"  Oh  dear  me !  I  wish  I  was  a  Avidder  again !  I  Avas 
some  account  then.  Seems  to  me  men  don't  care  much 
for  their  wives  after  they  get  them.  But  poor  Boozer 
did,  though.  Yes,  Boozer  was  a  very  attentive  husband. 
He  was  just  like  a  tender  lamb,  following  me  all  day 
long.  I  wish  he  was  here  now,  the  dear,  patient  olfl 
angel !" 

"  Madam,  allow  me  to  second  your  wish  with  all  the 
powers  of  my  harassed  and  burdened  soul,"  came  from 
the  other  side  of  the  table.  "  Nothing  would  more  de 
light  me  than  that  Peter  Boozer,  the  former  partner  of 
your  matrimonial  bosom,  were  now  enjoying  that  connu 
bial  felicity  from  which  death  so  kindly  relieved  him,  and 
which  has  become  such  an  intolerable  burden  to  myself. 
Allow  me  to  add,  my  dear  madam,  that  upon  your  unwom 
anly  eagerness  rests  the  sole  responsibility  of  our  present 
unhappincss.  You  inveigled  me  into  this  social  dilemma, 
from  which  neither  of  us  can  retreat  without  the  most  ri 
diculous  public  exposure.  Alas!  alas!  If  I  were  only  a 
bachelor  again,  a  million  times  your  fortune  would  be  no 
temptation  to  me  to  tread  the  vale  of  life  with  you — unless, 
indeed,  you  were  bestowed  safely  in  the  bottom  of  the  vale 
and  I  meandering  serenely  on  top  of  the  green  sward  !" 

"  Rader  Craft,  you're  a  bald-headed  old  fool — that's 
Avhat  you  are !"  came  from  the  Avoman,  the  tones  grow 
ing  ominously  angry. 

"  Then  I  am  well  mated  with  you,  if  not  well  married," 
he  rejoined  with  a  sneer,  becoming  deeply  absorbed  in  his 
paper. 

"Did  you  say  I  Avas  bald-headed,  you  old  hypocrite?" 
cried  the  woman,  springing  from  her  chair  and  shaking 
her  index  finger  in  his  face. 

"  Certainly  not,  my  dear,"  Avas  the  reply  in  a  voice  of 
assumed  tenderness  as  he  fastened  his  eyes  more  intently 
upon  the  printed  page.  "Your  loATely  head  is  coA'ered  with 
a  perennial  growth,"  then  loAvering  his  voice,  "thanks  to 
the  Avigmaker." 

35 


410  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

"What's  that  you  SAY?"  she  demanded. 

"  Nothing." 

"  Yes,  you  did  !"  she  persisted. 

"  No,  I  didn't." 

"  I  tell  you  you  did !"  and  she  stamped  her  foot. 

"  I  didii't,"  he  muttered. 

"You  did!" 

"Didn't,"  he  growled  half  audibly. 

She  began  to  crv,  and  shouted, 
•    "You  did!  you  did!  you  did!— did!  did!  did!" 

The  relict  of  Peter  Boozer,  no\v  the  wife  of  Ruder  Craft, 
would  have  continued  this  monotonous  assertion  until  her 
husband  sought  refuge  in  the  street  had  not  a  loud  rap 
upon  the  door  interrupted  her.  Mrs.  Craft  crossed  the 
flo:>r,  her  tears  vanishing  with  astonishing  rapidity,  and 
opened  the  door  with  a  smile.  A  young  man  raised  his 
hat  with  a  profound  bow,  and  entered  the  room  with  a 
young  woman  leaning  tenderly  upon  his  arm.  In  dress, 
looks  and  gestures  they  had  the  appearance  of  a  recently- 
married  pair. 

"William  Dibbs,  I  declare!"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  in 
his  astonishment  dropping  his  paper  and  eye-glasses  at 
the  same  time. 

'•'A  salutation  of  mathematical  correctness,"  replied  the 
new-comer.  "  I  indeed  rejoice  in  that  aforesaid  highly- 
respectable  cognomen.  But  adopting  in  the  present  ex 
igence  your  illustrious  phrase,  '  Why  need  I  longer  delay  ? 
Nor  will  I!'  allow  me  to  present,"  holding  his  companion 
gallantly  by  the  hand  and  making  a  sweeping  bow  by  her 
side,  "  Mrs.  William  Dibbs,  formerly  Miss  Charitina  Ster- 
ritina — a  lady  whose  transcendent  beauty,  sterling  cha 
racter,  diversified  culture  and  comprehensive  mind  shine 
with  immeasurably  increased  lustre  by  comparison  with 
the  intellectual,  moral  and  physical  deficiencies  of  yours 
truly,  the  fortunate  bridegroom." 

"  Mrs.  William  Dibbs,"  said  the  lawyer,  advancing  with 
his  bland  smile  of  yore  and  holding  the  blushing  bride's 
hand  in  his  oily  grasp,  "  I  congratulate  you  most  sincerely 
upon  having  formed  a  matrimonial  connection  with  not 
only  a  congenial  spirit,  but  with  one  of  the  rising  geniuses 
of  the  age.  Already  elected  to  the  legislature  from  the 


CLOSING    SCENES.  411 

birthplace  of  American  liberty,  I  see  in  the  Honorable 
AVilliam  Dibbs  one  early  and  fast  becoming  fitted  for 
positions  of  national  trust  and  emolumemt." 

"Emolument  is  good — excellent!"  rejoined  Dibbs,  lay 
ing  his  hand  solemnly  upon  his  heart,  and  looking  with  a 
grotesque  wink  at  the  lawyer.  "  I  do  indeed  yearn  to 
serve  my  country  in  a  fiduciary  capacity,  and  I  will  make 
any  personal  sacrifices  for  any  emolument  she  might  wish 
to  bestow  upon  my  unworthy  services. — But  prithee,  most 
noble  female,"  turning  to  Mrs  Craft  and  taking  her  hand, 
"how  fares  thy  tender  barque  upon  the  matrimonial  sea? 
Art  thoti  sailing  under  clear  blue  skies  and  upon  placid, 
shining  waters?  or  do  the  black  clouds  of  discontent 
lower  upon  the  horizon,  and  the  howling  wind  of  discord 
raise  dismal  thoughts  within  thy  unquiet  soul  ?  Hast  thy 
marital  experience  already  proved  to  thee  the  truth  of  the 
celestial  William's  reflection  that  'things  sweet  to  taste 
prove  in  digestion  sour '  ?  or  art  thou  serenely  happy  in 
the  company  of  thy  noble  lord?" 

"  Oh,  we  are  very,  very  happy,  Mr.  Dibbs,"  said  Mrs. 
Craft,  smiling  sweetly  on  her  astonished  husband.  "Of 
course  we  have  our  little  spats  now  and  then,  as  the  best 
of  people  will,  you  know.  But  we  are  learning  each 
other's  ways  very  fast,  Mr.  Dibbs." 

"  I  venture  the  assertion,"  said  Mrs.  Dibbs  with  a  little 
gush  of  energy  as  she  cast  a  languishing  glance  on  the 
lawyer  that  made  his  eyes  sparkle,  "that  it  would  require 
a  decidedly  combustible  disposition  to  disagree  with  Mr. 
Craft.  He  has  certainly  the  most  heavenly  look  of  resig 
nation  that  could  exist  this  side  of  the  heavenly  portals. — 
Oh,  \Yilliam,"  clasping  the  arm  of  her  husband  and  gaz 
ing  up  into  his  eyes  with  intense  adoration,  "if  you  could 
only  add  that  serene  smile  to  your  multitudinous  accom 
plishments,  what  a  paradox  you  would  be  !" 

"  Paragon,  my  dear,"  whispered  Dibbs,  playfully  chuck 
ing  her  under  the  chin.  "  Remember  the  dictionary,  dar 
ling;  select  your  words  with  precision. — Hem  !"  address 
ing  the  lawyer.  "  You  must  pardon  for  the  present, 
most  worthy  counselor,  any  technical  errors  in  my  beloved 
Charitina's  vocabulary.  Sublunary  perfection  is  ever  im 
possible.  The  wisest  men  are  not  always  wise,  neither  are 


412  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

the  learned  free  from  error.  Allow  me  to  observe  that  in 
the  attainment  of  rhetorical  effects  in  English  and  the 
acquisition  of  French  and  German  this  sweet  multiplier 
of  my  joys  has  demonstrated  herself  as  a  being  of  rare 
linguistic  abilities.  Ay,  and  in  the  exclusive  social  circles 
of  the  great  metropolis  she  is  making  progress  as  wonder 
ful  as  the  beauty  of  her  countenance  and  the  capacity  of 
her  intellect.  Already  her  vision  fails  to  recognize  old 
acquaintances,  and  with  a  pug  nestling  in  her  lovely  arms 
she  paces  the  street  with  the  lofty  step  of  a  Juno,  her  gor 
geous  attire  the  envy  of  the  entire  female  population. 
But  why  need  I  longer  delay  ?  Nor  will  I.  Now  that 
congratulations  are  over,  let  us  proceed  to  interchange 
items  of  news  and  observation." 

"  First,  pray  be  seated,"  said  the  lawyer,  gallantly  lead 
ing  Mrs.  Dibbs  to  a  chair  close  beside  his  own.  "And 
before  we  proceed  farther,  let  me  say  that  the  Honorable 
"\Yiilia in  Dibbs  and  his  accomplished  wife  are  welcome  to 
Sunlight  Cottage,  the  appropriate  designation  we  have 
conferred  upon  our  happy  home.7' 

"So  very  happy!"  murmured  Mrs.  Craft,  casting  a 
glittering  smile  on  the  lawyer,  which  he  covertly  returned 
with  a  mocking  leer. 

"  First  impart  to  me  the  local  news,"  said  Dibbs.  "  Is 
it  true  that  you  have  sold  the  Green  Tree  Inn  ?  So  the 
affable  clerk  informed  us  as  we  registered  our  names 
for  a  temporary  sojourn." 

"  Yos,  and  a  very  poor  price  we  got  for  it  too.  But 
Mr.  Craft,  you  know,  Mr.  Dibbs,  was  ahvays  a  poor  hand 
at  bargains,"  quickly  answered  the  woman  in  a  mild, 
even  voice. 

"  True  !"  laughed  the1  lawyer,  with  his  smile  still  bland. 
"  I  know  one  very  bad  bargain  I  made — in  fact,  the  worst 
of  my  life. — But  then,  in  certain  matters,  men  are  not  so 
bright  as  women,  Mr.  Dibbs.  You  comprehend  ?" 

"  '  Oui,  monsieur,'  as  my  linguistic  and  cultured  wife 
would  say,"  rejoined  Dibbs,  exchanging  sly  winks  wi.h 
the  lawyer.  "  This  was  evidently  a  case  in  which  your 
legal  acumen  was  of  no  avail  to  evade  the  issue.  Yes, 
yes  !"  with  a  serio-comic  air  ;  "I  can  see  how  feeble  was 
your  defence.  I  apprehend  how  speedily  the  case  was 


CLOSING  SCENES.  413 

pushed  through  its  cumulated  phases,  and  I  opine  how 
unexpectedly  you  discovered  yourself  the  innocent  sub 
ject  of  a  declaration,  instantly  followed  by  a  replication, 
succeeded  by  a  sur-rejoinder,  which  in  turn  gave  place  to 
a  sur-rebuttal.  At  last  you  were  inevitably,  teetotally  and 
finally  quashed  by  the  aforesaid  uxorial  plaintiff.  But 
tell  me,  now  that  we  are  on  the  subject  of  marriage,  how 
comes  on  Pat  Doyle  in  his  new  and  similar  relations  ?" 

"  It  is  exhilarating  to  behold  the  Irishman's  happiness," 
replied  Craft.  "The  old  miser  would  scarcely  recognize 
his  hut  were  he  to  see  it  now.  Pat  and  his  smart  little 
wife  have  made  the  place  bloom  and  blossom  like  a  gar 
den  in'the  desert.  It  was  a  very  generous  action  on  the 
part  of  the  former  Miss  Loyd  to  buy  the  place  from  the 
miser's  trustees  and  present  it  to  Pat.  The  furniture,  you 
remember,  was  given  to  Doyle  by  the  miser's  own  daugh 
ter.  Well,  Pat  and  his  wife  are  exceedingly  happy  now. 
It  was  only  this  morning  I  met  him  coming  into  town  with 
a  load  of  vegetables. 

"  '  How  goes  the  honeymoon?  Is  it  over  yet?'  I  called 
out  to  him. 

"'Over,  is  it?'  said  he.  'Throth,  it's  jist  wid  me  at  its 
height,  I'm  thinkin'.  An'  it's  'honey  dear'  she  be  say  in' 
to  me  all  day  long  wid  her  sweet  lips.  But,  faix,  it's  in 
moighty  dread  I  am  o'  the  day  when  the  little  desaiver 
will  be  call  in'  me  '  owld  beeswax.'  For  indade  the  sweet 
craythurs  have  a  power  o'  contradicshun  in  them.' '' 

"Doyle  is  right,"  laughed  Dibbs  as  the  lawyer  finished 
speaking  with  a  little  tantalizing  smile  at  Mrs.  Craft. 
"The  female  mind  is  sublimely  erratic,  smiling  in  its 
tears  and  weeping  in  its  laughter." 

"Friend  Dibbs,"  asked  Craft,  suddenly  changing  the 
subject,  "  is  it  true  that  the  woman  we  supposed  to  be 
Miss  Loyd  was  not  only  an  heiress,  but  the  real  mother 
of  Volney  Slade,  and  the  legal  wife  of  Seth  Slade,  who 
died  in  the  hospital  of  wounds  inflicted  by  Grundle's 

dog?'; 

''  Yes,  all  that  is  true,  and  more  too,"  replied  Dibbs, 
"  which  I  will  tell  you  in  a  few  plain  words,  for  simple 
diction  best  suits  narration.  The  day  following  the  death 
of  Seth  Slade  I  went  with  Miss  Loyd  to  the  village 


414  AS  IT  MA  Y  HAPPEN. 

of .  There  we  gained  access  to  the  church  register, 

in  which  was  recorded  the  marriage  of  Agnes  \Vliarton 
to  Seth  Slade  by  the  rector,  who,  by  the  way,  was  still  liv 
ing.  You  can  judge  of  our  .surprise  when  the  clergyman 
informed  us  that  he  had  been  several  years  endeavoring 
to  find  out  the  whereabouts  of  this  Agnes  Wharton,  in  re 
sponse  to  a  letter  of  inquiry  he  had  received  a  year  after 
this  marriage.  Upon  getting  possession  of  this  lettei1,  we 
found  it  to  be  from  a  law-firm  in  Boston,  announcing  the 
death  of  Miss  Wharton's  father,  and  that  under  the  will 
she  was  sole  heir  'to  his  fortune.  A  big  fortune  it  is — 
as  nearly  as  I  can  find  out,  about  half  a  million  of  dol 
lars." 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  the  lawyer;  "what  a  desirable 
woman  !  The  fellow  will  be  fortunate  who  treads  life's 
vale  with  her  lovely  image  smiling  upon  his  care-worn 
face.  How  came  she  to  change  her  name  to  Aziel  Loyd  ? 
She  never  did  look  like  a  servant :  I  always  said  that." 

"  It's  a  short  and  a  bad  story,  but  not  for  her,"  re 
sumed  Dibbs.  "You  see,  Seth  Slade  was  a  perfect  scoun 
drel,  and  the  first  thing  Agnes  knew  he  had  married  the 
woman  who  subsequently  came  to  Slowville  as  Mrs.  Gag- 
ger.  By  her  lather's  will  this  woman  was  to  inherit  a 
large  fortune  if  she  married  and  had  a  son.  Slade,  know 
ing  this,  wedded  her  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  get  pos 
session  of  the  fortune  and  desert  her.  She  did  have  a  son, 
but  he  died  the  night  of  his  birth.  For  this  dead  babe 
Slade  substituted  his  own  child  by  Agnes  AVharton,  com 
pelling  her,  under  the  lie  that  they  had  not  been  lawfully 
married,  to  surrender  her  child  for  this  purpose,  and  act 
ually  bringing  her  into  the  house  as  the  child's  nurse 
under  the  assumed  name  of  Aziel  Loyd." 

"The  dastardly  villain  !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Dibbs. 

"  The  hypocritical  fiend  !"  echoed  Mrs.  Craft. 

"How  does  Yolney  Slade  fancy  his  newly-fo.uml 
mother  ?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

"  Why,  he  told  me  himself  that  he  had  always  loved  her 
far  more  than  he  had  his  reputed  mother.  He  ought  to 
now  if  he  never  did  before,  for  she  has  bought  him 
Marsh's  mill,  which  was  recently  sold  under  the  bank 
rupt  law,  and  Yolney  is  making  a  small  fortune  every 


CLOSING  SCENES.  415 

day.  There  will  be  no  more  strikes  at  that  mill  with 
Volney  Slade  managing  affairs.  The  workmen  swear  by 
him  as  stoutly  now  as  they  cursed  old  Marsh  before  he 
went  up  in  his  financial  balloon." 

"How  did  it  happen  that  old  Gagger  left  all  his  money 
to  his  wife?"  further  questioned  Craft.  "  I  was  greatly 
surprised  at  that." 

"  Why,  it  was  just  like  him,"  laughed  Dibbs.  "  What 
you  would  not  expect  him  to  do,  that  very  thing  he  was 
sure  to  do.  Yes,  he  left  every  cent  of  his  property  to  his 
wife.  He  had  the  will  drawn  the  very  day  before  he 
died.  Just  as  he  breathed  his  last  he  pulled  the  will  out 
from  under  his  pillow  and  said  to  his  wife  :  '  Here's  a  sur 
prise  for  you.  Good-bye !'  But  Mrs.  Gagger  did  not 
keep  all  this  money  to  herself.  She  gave  fifty  thousand 
of  it  to  Silas  Gagger  Howe,  the  old  man's  nephew,  who 
married  Harriet  Marsh  last  week." 

"  Willie  dear,  do  tell  now  about  the  miser  and  the  dog 
and  the  sweet,  sweet  Emily,"  said  his  wife,  as  Dibbs 
paused  to  debate  what  thread  of  the  story  he  should  next 
take  up. 

"Yes,  that  will  be  a  fitting  end  to  the  narrative,"  he 
resumed. — "Well,"  addressing  himself  to  the  others,  "as 
you  already  know,  Nicholas  Grundle  was  John  Sterrit, 
and  Emily  was  his  daughter.  It  appears  that  when  Emily 
was  four  years  old  John  Sterrit,  who  was  somewhat  ad 
vanced  in  years,  and  had  always  been  weak-headed  on  the 
subject  of  a  child  and  heir,  conceived  the  idea  of  running 
away  with  his  child  and  hiding  her,  himself  and  his  for 
tune  from  the  world.  He  did  so,  taking  the  name  of 
Nicholas  Grundle;  and  had  he  not  been  robbed  by  Set h 
Slade,  he  might  be  living  here  yet  in  that  old  wayside  hut. 
But  that  robbery  was  the  means  of  Nicholas  Grundle  re 
storing  his  child  to  her  mother  and  himself  to  his  wife. 
Ah  !  he  is  a  miserable  wreck  of  a  man  now — crazy  as  he 
can  be.  Sits  all  day  long  in  his  chair  counting  pieces  of 
money  they  give  him  to  play  with,  and  talking  in  whis 
pers  to  the  dog  Caesar  about  a  tall  man  with  a  black  beard. 
He  has  no  idea  that  Seth  Slade  is  dead,  or  that  nearly  all 
the  stolen  money  was  recovered.  He  did  not  even  recog 
nize  his  own  regained  property  when  it  was  shown  him. 


416  AS  IT  MAY  HAPPEN. 

"Well,  so  goes  the  world.  It  is  a  struggle  to  make  money 
— a  struggle  to  keep  it ;  and  while  a  man  is  doing  either, 
he  drops  into  the  grave  without  a  dollar  of  it  all. 

"  But  to  conclude.  In  two  adjoining  big  brownstone 
houses  in  the  metropolis  are  residing  the  subjects  of  this 
brief  biographical  sketch.  Mrs.  Gagger  and  Aziel  Loyd, 
that  was,  preside  over  one  mansion,  and  in  the  other  are 
"Volney  and  his  wife,  Mrs.  Sterrit,  crazy  old  Sterrit  and 
the  dog  Cffisar." 

"  Now  do  tell  us  about  yourself,  Mr.  Dibbs,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Craft  with  a  solicitous  smile.  "  Is  it  true  that  Mrs. 
Slade — I  mean  she  who  passed  here  as  Aziel  Loyd — gave 
you  twenty-five  thousand  dollars?" 

"That  is  the  identical  sum,  my  dear  madam,  that  Mrs. 
Slade,  alias  Aziel  Loyd,  alias  Agnes  Wharton,  bestowed 
upon  yours  truly  because  of  his  former  sympathetic  friend 
ship.  There  was  but  one  condition  connected  with  this 
generous  gift — namely,  that  I  should  permanently  leave 
the  saloon-business." 

"  Did  you  give  it  up?" 

"  Most  assuredly,"  replied  Dibbs  with  emphasis,  "  did  I 
retire  from  the  public  manipulation  of  manly  beverages. 
I  bestowed  the  Hora  Bibendi  as  a  free  gift  upon  Lanty 
Joy,  and  forthwith  gave  my  unremitting  attention  to  poli 
tics.  As  your  husband  previously  remarked,  I  am  now 
a  member-elect  of  the  legislature;  to  speak  even  more 
comprehensively,  a  patriot  ready  and  willing  to  shed  his 
blood  for  his  country's  good.  If  you  have  any  little 
bill  for  the  suppression  of  matrimonial  infelicities  which 
you  wish  our  noble  body  of  lawmakers  to  consider,  my 
dear  madam,  please  command  my  services  without  the 
usual  preliminary  quid  pro  quo.  But,"  rising  and  gal 
lantly  looking  at  his  wife,  "  the  night  draws  on  apace. 
The  eyelids  of  the  bride  grow  heavy.  Spike  hops  un- 
easilv  about  his  cage  for  our  return.  Come,  beauteous 
bride!  Let  us  hence  beneath  the  glittering  midnight 
sky,  where  stars  shine  not  so  brightly  as  thine  liquid 
eyes,  nor  moon  so  softly  as  the  smile  playing  about  thy 
lovely  lips. — Adieu,  my  friends!  May  our  mutual  regret 
at  this  temporary  parting  be  the  earnest  of  our  future 
friendship !" 


90095-1388 


Form  L9-S 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000034997  7 


L  :,_;>] 


PS 

15 

D28?a 


